End of dealerships, end of an era

Lorraine Sommerfeld

SPECIAL TO THE STAR

Back in 1984, I had the chance to buy a Chrysler Mini Ram van. Now, this was the vehicle that would haul Chrysler back from the precipice of bankruptcy, and it was a fine little beast. Still students, a partner and I started a business. Our own finances were about as healthy as Chrysler's at the time, but we needed a vehicle.

Through a friend, we heard that this particular van was in the repossessed lease pool at Chrysler head office. We were offered the chance to buy it. To this day, I remember the monthly payments were $248.69. It was one of the best purchases I ever made – it was nearly new.

The only catch? We had to deal through a local dealer. Directed to the largest Chrysler dealer in our city, we received treatment that ran the gamut from disdain to disrespect. They hadn't made a nickel off us, as we learned, and for that reason we never hit their radar. What they didn't know is that those two crazy kids with the little van went on to buy many, many vehicles as their business succeeded, and not a single purchase went to that dealership.

Flash forward several years. Same van at the cottage, trying to deftly navigate down a steep slope, in reverse, to unload a jet-ski into the lake. Did I mention the van had a standard transmission? Well, you need that information to understand the horrible noise it made when the clutch blew, and the emergency brake was the only thing that stopped it from tumbling into the lake after the jet-ski.

Sunday calls to the auto club are hardly news in cottage country. The toughest part is actually describing an address that features "go left at the big rock" and "look for a lunatic waving her arms in the road". With my baby dangling from the tow truck, the next question was more sobering: where to?

The driver agreed to haul it into Parry Sound for us.

Parry Sound Dodge Chrysler was closed. But like all small towns, someone knew someone and a call was made. We'd never before darkened their door, but somehow we had the owner standing before us. A mechanic checked it out, let us know what was required, and when we could get it. On a Sunday in the middle of a tiny town in peak season.

Chrysler and General Motors posted notice last week that they will be closing, collectively, thousands of dealerships across North America. It stands to reason; they've been over-represented in the marketplace for far too long. That initial Chrysler dealership I encountered over two decades ago? It wasn't long before another was opened 2 kilometres down the road. Which is only 8 km from the next one in a neighbouring city.

While I won't shed tears if some of the bullies leave, the smaller dealers are going to take the hit and that's unfortunate. Those are the ones where you can hear stories of your dad buying his first car as he takes you in to buy yours. The ones where somebody shows up on a Sunday with a key because somewhere he, too, has kids making foolish mistakes. The ones where you can get your car serviced without driving 40 km to the nearest dealership.

It'll come down to geography and harsh bottom lines. But for some communities it is far more about heart.

Lorraine Sommerfeld appears Saturday in Wheels and Mondays in Living.

www.lorraineonline.ca

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