Remember when gas was at over $4 a gallon and $150 a barrel, with no end in sight?  Wasn’t that back in ’72?  Or was it mid-October, just a couple months ago?  It’s hard to remember today, now that gas is selling under $2 a gallon.

I was smacked upside the head yesterday with a harsh reminder of how we manage to find ourselves in these predicaments.  First, a bit of history.  In early October, Mrs. SJ decided it was time to get a new Prius to replace the old Prius.  She drives a Prius, just like Ted Frank, because she thinks it makes her look sporty.  It’s really not a bad little car at all.  We call it the “pod”.

So we went to the Toyota dealer, where we were informed they had no Priuses available.  Plenty of other cars, but not a Prius to be found.  Of course, we were told (as if we needed to be told) that this was because of gas prices.  It was the only car anyone wanted.  Certainly understandable, given Americans sudden recognition that we might have an oil problem.

Still, while we were there, they urged us to allow them to appraise our old Prius for trade-in, and when a Prius became available, we would be given the trade-in value against the new one.  So we did.

The dealer was supposed to call us when a Prius became available.  We never received a phone call, but Mrs. SJ raised the Prius issue again, and I decided to make some inquiries.  It seems that all the local Toyota dealers now have Priuses in stock.  Not one, in a particularly ugly color, but plenty of them.  It seems that they are no longer flying out the door.  A couple of months have passed, and all is forgotten.  We have no oil crisis.  What were we thinking?

So I spoke with the dealer by phone, negotiated my a deal on a new Prius in the color Mrs. SJ preferred, (dark gray) which was my sole criteria for selecting the particular Prius, and made an appointment later in the day to come in and purchase it.  I thought it was a done deal. 

When I arrived, the lovely young woman I spoke with was preoccupied with something more important, so I was handed off to another salesperson who was unfamiliar with my deal.  He wanted to start from scratch, explaining to me all the wonderful features a Prius had to offer. I explained that we were already familiar with the car, were on a short time frame and really just needed to get the deal done.  I am so naive.

The salesman, after speaking with someone outside our view, returned to explain that the Prius in the color we selected, had just been sold.  But he had another Prius, in another color, that we could have.  Mrs. SJ was not pleased, but has little tolerance for car salespeople and gave me the look to proceed despite her misgivings.

So we shifted toward the completing the deal.  After informing my new salesman, who was actually a very nice guy who looked terribly uncomfortable selling cars and probably was a nuclear physicist six months ago, the “manager” came over to tell me that the price for the new Prius, the one posted on the dealer’s website, was for a mythical non-existent car with no special package.  This car had package number 2 (which included floor mats and tires, I believe) and would cost about a grand more.  I sat there silently.

The manager then informed me that the trade-in value of the old Prius was when everybody wanted Priuses, and that it was impossible for them to take the Prius at that price.  He wanted to explain it to me.  I told him that I wasn’t interested in the explanation.  I was, however, interested in them honoring the value they gave me.

The manager then asked how much I was willing to pay for the car.  I told him I would pay the price advertised.  He said, “no way,” and walked away.  I shrugged and did the same.  Before we could get very far, another manager came over to “explain” to Mrs. SJ, who is less tolerant than me, why they could not sell her the car at the advertised price and take her trade-in at their appraised value. 

Mrs. SJ was not in the mood to be lectured.  While she has never been in the mood to be lectured as long as I have known her, she was particularly unhappy with being lectured by a Toyota manager about why they can’t honor their word and why she should have to pay thousands of dollars more than agreed upon.  I might have intervened at this point, but Mrs. SJ was building up a head of steam and I feared being injured in the cross-fire.  I can tell from the throbbing veins in her temple when Mrs. SJ is best left alone.

Following a few choice words, we left the dealership without purchasing one of the many Prius they had sitting silently on their lot. 
Not only is there no oil crisis, but apparently there’s no economic crisis either at the Toyota dealer.  We were, however, the only customers in the dealership.  When we walked out, there were none.