Detroit automakers wonder why new car sales are down. They only have to examine the new car buying experience to find out why.

I’d been putting off buying my wife a new car for too long. The fact is, I was dreading the experience. Every car I’ve ever bought new (which goes back to my first one in 1986) was an ordeal I promised myself I’d never repeat, yet here I was about to go back to a new car dealership for the ninth time. For the record, I just bought a brand new Hemi-powered Inferno Red Dodge Magnum R/T. It’s our first new Mopar, and I love it.

As this is written, oil is well over $100 a barrel. The auto industry is in a slump, Detroit manufacturers have had a belly full of big incentives, so there’s never been more pressure on dealerships to make things happen. Sure, they go out of their way to make you feel great, filling up colored balloons with helium and tying them on all the cars, but that isn’t enough. If this were any other business, you’d see adaptation and evolution, but dealerships are really entrenched in a culture of battling with the customer. That’s a shame, because the manufacturers have done their job.

Our office is next door to a Chrysler dealership. I can throw a rock and hit any car on the lot—not that I would. I walk by it most every day on the way to and from lunch. Other than a few noises emanating from the service department, the place is mostly a ghost town. In the two months leading up to my Magnum purchase, I stopped there at least a dozen times, admiring all the 300C Hemis with brightly-colored balloons tethered to them, and only got approached once. (And just so you know, I'm not that much of a dirtbag.) When I was finally approached, instead of trying to find me the car I wanted, she tried to rush me inside to fill out a credit application. Where, may I ask, does customer satisfaction fit in?

As you read this, you may think, this guy is a real tough customer. Here’s my take on it: If I’m going to shell out between $500 and $600 a month for the next five, six, or even seven years of my life, I not only want an awesome car (which I got), I also want to be treated like royalty when I buy it. I want more than festively colored balloons. The size and length of the financial commitment is considerable, so the least you can do is treat me like a human—forget about the royalty part.  

My next stop was a large regional dealership. They have lots of colored balloons too. I actually went back to this dealer three times, but the dealer sensed my need was immediate, (it wasn’t) and misjudged me for a slack-jawed balloon-admiring idiot. Lesson: if a sales manager thinks you’re infatuated with a car, he'll rarely give you a better price. You’ve been hooked and you’ve got the fever, so they go in for the kill. I wasn’t playing the balloon game, and walked. I then called the next dealership from this dealer’s lot, and got told my first lie by the next dealer before I even got there.

The next Dodge dealership was nine miles down the road, not three. (Note to car dealers: you can tell me two lies, but on your third one, I’m outta there.) Dealer trick number two: Obtain some item from the customer to keep him on the premises whilst distracting him with brightly colored balloons. The previous dealer took my driver’s license for a half hour, ostensibly to verify that I could, indeed, drive, and to admire my wonderful DMV photo. At this location, the shtick is apparently to take the keys to your trade-in. They want to inspect your car, only this dealer kept the keys, and conveniently lost them. Yep. Keys gone. I had a spare set, so my wife and I jetted out of there pronto.

On this day, I was already seven hours invested in finding a Hemi. As a last resort, I stopped by my local Dodge dealer, and was approached by a very nice, very knowledgeable, and very young salesman, who actually told me one truth after another. He had no idea the extent of my knowledge on these cars, and his facts matched mine blow for blow. Even better, he had a brand new left-over 2007 Hemi Magnum R/T in our price range. And there were lots of brightly colored balloons too! Ahh, but the honeymoon would soon end when I got to meet his sales manager. (Note to my salesman: get out of the new car business before you feel the irrational desire to join the circus.)

This dealer, like many these days, likes to load up cars with extra gingerbread, like big chrome wheels, billet grilles, and balloons on the antenna. This car was such a car, and I didn’t feel like rolling through the hood like a rapper or a drug dealer. “No problem,” says Mr. Manager. “We’ve got the original ones upstairs in the service department.” (Lie number one.) “Come back in two days. We’ll swap the wheels back for you then,” said Mr. Manager. (Lie number two. Danger zone.) It was 11pm, I was tired, so I gave in and signed the papers. When I came back two days later, there were plenty of colored balloons, but no wheels. In fact, they had totally forgotten about the wheels, but they promised to order them for me that day. (Lie number three, but the gig’s up. I’d bought the car.) I called the next day, the wheels and tires hadn’t even been ordered yet, and nobody knew anything about it—they were at the other store, and someone would fetch them to install tomorrow. Tomorrow came, and guess what? Plenty fresh balloons, but no wheels. I happen to like the 2007 Magnum wheels better than the 2008 wheels, in fact, it’s one of the reasons I bought the ‘07. They remind me of Camaro IROC wheels—one of the best wheels ever designed. Meanwhile, my wife and I are driving around on ridiculously pimped-out Chinese 22-inchers that are so out of balance, the car shudders violently when driven over 60 mph.

Will the dealer make good on his promise? Who knows--I'll stare at this picture of a regular Magnum R/T until I get mine. You wanna know something funny? When the general manager found out I was the editor of PHR, he asked me to write something good about their dealership. Well here you go: This Dodge dealership takes a lot of pride in keeping its helium balloons full, fresh, and floating, not deflated and sagging like some other dealers. How’s that for a good word? My dislike of car dealers and brightly colored balloons has been renewed, but I’ll probably make the same mistake again in a year or two, when the new Challenger rolls out.

If there are two positive things to get out of this story, it’s that the cars coming out of Detroit are as good as they’ve ever been. They gotta be, ‘cause you’ve got to run the gauntlet just to buy one. The power, safety, handling, styling, standard equipment, and lifetime powertrain warranty on the Hemi is something I could only dream about 20 years ago. And the other thing? I won’t have to visit a therapist to discover why I hate helium balloons so much.