Caveat Emptor

For the first time in about 25 years, I'm looking out on my driveway, as well as the two coveted parking spaces in front of my house, and I'm not seeing a Lexus. Or any Toyota product.

This is a shame as I am a big believer in the brand.

But they have lost me.

Not because of anything they've done, but because of what was done/not done by the people who sell and service Toyota products -- the Stealerships.

Namely Jim Falk Lexus in Beverly Hills (home of the $101 gas cap) and Lexus of Santa Monica (home of "We have all your service records but we can't release them to you.")

I won't bore you with all the details suffice to say the estimate for the latest repair -- which should have been done while the car was still under warranty -- exceeded the entire value of the car. Moreover, the repair was outlined in a Service Bulletin issued in 2008.

I was all ready to wage a major battle with Lexus Corporate and treat RoundSeventeen readers to an extended series of letters, stunts and trademarked Siegel tactics that would leave jaws agape.

But just as it is wise not to fight a land war in Asia, I decided on a different approach.

I scurried down to the local CarMax for a car appraisal, hoping upon hope that whatever ailed the Lexus would not show up on their diagnostics. It did not. They took some pictures. Noted some scratches. And made sure the car, seeing as it was mine, didn't have any funny smells. That's all they did.

They never even drove the car!

Thirty minutes later I had an official offer letter in my grubby hand. It was just a few hundred dollars short of the official Kelly Blue Book value.

I felt like I had pulled off another Ocean's Eleven.

I gathered up all the paperwork, including the title and registration, and the next morning my wife and I were there as they were opening the doors. Before the first pot of coffee had been brewed I had a check in my hands. Well not exactly a check. It was a bank draft that would not clear for 3 business days.

And for three business days I sweated.

I paced.

I watched the clock, knowing the Siegel luck would once again bite my not insignificant ass and that one of the mechanics at CarMax would say, "These cylinders seem a bit hinky."

It never did.

My guess is some schmuck in Alabama picked up this "sweet deal" at a car auction. He's now sitting behind the wheel of my old Lexus, fiddling around the radio for a good country music station, while his wife plays with the electronic seat adjustments and the magical lumbar support. And just as he is about to pull away at a traffic light...

"Wait a minute, something doesn't feel right with the acceleration."

If there's any justice in this world he'll be wearing a MAGA cap.