Farewell, Ms. Forester; Hello, Miss Blue

"It's going to be okay... It's going to be okay..." I had to keep telling myself as Aaron and I pulled into the lot of our local Subaru dealership yesterday afternoon.

I have a hard time spending money, hence my inherently thrifty nature. My insides fall apart at the weekly grocery bill; Aaron has to physically take over the payment if we're buying anything significantly large. It was only by him holding my hand that I was able to sign with the other for our house downpayment.

A car doesn't rank as highly as a house, but in terms of significant payments, it's getting up there. And Aaron and I knew this day had been coming. We knew that our beloved Subaru, Ms. Forester, was approaching her 13th year, and that the seepage from her head gaskets was getting worse. Every oil change and service she had, the mechanics would tsk more strongly, and shake their heads just a little more emphatically.

She was our FIRST car, not only as a married couple, but for either of us ever. My friend Donna took me to her friend who owned the Subaru, and we handed over an envelope of more cash than I'd ever seen before, and picked up the keys and title. Ms. Forester was also the car that both Aaron and I learned to drive in - we even bought her before we had our licenses because she was such a good deal, and she sat in the parking lot of our apartments until we were ready.

She was the car that drove us on our road trips, and brought us to The Dalles, where we fell in love with the land, and knew we'd found our home.

She was the car that brought the nervous new parents safely home from the hospital, and the only car that Theron had known up till yesterday.

We'd hoped to have Ms. Forester last till next year, to take advantage of year end mark-downs on the dealer lot. (That Katriona! Ever thrifty!) But we could smell the gasket problem getting worse, and with a 9 hour round trip to the coast next week, we were worried that she might not make it. Originally we had planned to take Ms. Forester in for a final check and oil change on Tuesday, but we didn't want to be pressured into driving something off the lot after an uninformed decision, if something was truly wrong.

So yesterday we went car shopping, and after six years of trusty service, and a total of 124,000 miles, Ms. Forester was part traded in for a 2008 Subaru Outback, now named Miss Blue. It took 90 minutes of hardcore haggling, to which I played harpy wife who's done her internet research, and Aaron played straight man sitting silently. We had agreed in advance what our ceiling would be, and were prepared to walk away.

(Though how could anyone walk away from this pretty, pretty thing?)

We shook hands with the agent, stated our position, our down payment, and our desired monthly payment. We were lucky in that they'd dropped the trade-in value of Ms. Forester by $700 since she was evaluated two months ago, so I felt fairly vindicated in offering them a ridiculous lowball.

We offered $2,250 below sticker price.

The agent hemmed, hawed, and went outside to find a piece of paper he'd forgetten (cough cough). Aaron swears at this point he heard an indignant harrumph from the desk manager when our initial offer was conveyed.

The agent countered at $1,200 below sticker price.

We had not expected them to agree in the slightest. So we hemmed and hawed too, and for giggles and grins, said we could probably see our way clear to $1,900 below sticker price, especially given the unexpected drop in our trade-in value, and the need to find that cash from somewhere.

The agent looked uneasy, but for the sake of appearances, made another visit to the desk manager. On his return, he started highlighting wholesale pricing, how much they would lose on the car at our offer price, and pointing out how our monthly payments would not be any more with a little creative juggling.

We pointed out debt-to-income ratio, our monthly budget, and the likelihood of a house refi in the near future. We played our final card; $1,750 below sticker price.

The agent retreated for several minutes, before encouraging us outside. In the sweltering, mind-bending heat that is The Dalles in summer, he showed us a 2007 Outback that had been hastily parked next to our 2008 choice, and left with the engine running, as if to show us what a great deal it was. "THIS is what I can give you for $1,750 below sticker price" he said. "The 2008 we just can't see our way to go more than $1,200 below sticker price."

(At this I laughed inwardly -- having just haggled $1,200 off the 2008, did he really think we'd take the 2007 at full sticker?)

We re-entered the cool bliss of the dealership offices, thanked the agent for his time, but reiterated our final offer. While he was out of his office getting a final forgotten piece of paper, Aaron and I briefly agreed that if he offered $1500 below sticker, we would say yes.

"I've never had such difficulty over settling for such a comparatively small amount!" the agent said as Aaron shook his hand goodbye. Aaron made his contribution, all the more powerful for its solitude: "Sorry man, we hit our walkaway."

We were buckling up in Ms Forester, about to turn the ignition, when the agent raced out of the dealership door, yelling "$1,550 BELOW STICKER!"

I figured for an additional $50, we could swear off Frappucinos for a month. We re-entered the dealership, spent another hour in the office on financing, and were driving off in the new car, before I remembered reading in my research that dealerships routinely bug their agents' offices, and our agent, who had seemed so desperate not to lose us, had probably known all along exactly how far we'd go, and played us like the sweet little violins we were.

But for $1,550 below sticker, I'll sing a pretty tune!