My First Car

I was eighteen and living in Amsterdam, but it was time for me to spread my wings and travel around. I had thought about buying an old, beat-up van or car, but I had become enamored of the many very cool-looking motorcycles I had seen in the Netherlands and had set my sights on a magnificent Moto Guzzi. I was walking to the dealership to plop down my money when something happened I hadn’t thought much about. The first heavy rainfall of spring came pouring down upon my head. I did an about face and headed for Garage Kost, the VW dealership my girlfriend’s father had recommended.

I was directed to the occasion – the used car – department, where a neatly groomed young man in a long blue lab coat greeted me and asked how he could be of service. I explained that I was looking for a used car or van and that my funds were extremely limited with an absolute cap of $500.

He frowned and thought for a moment, then said, “Hmm, Mr. Marshall, I am sorry, but I have no cars or vans for $500.”

I nodded knowingly and was about to leave when he said, “But! I do have a very nice car over here for $400!” I wasn’t sure I had heard correctly. I said, “You mean for less than I want to spend?” He said, “Well, that is the price of the car. It is a ten-year-old VW 1500 sedan in excellent condition, right over here.”

I looked at the car and is did appear to be in excellent condition, both inside and out. Much roomier than a beetle, it was a model never sold in the U.S. It was the sedan version of the VW station wagon.

I took it for a test drive and was impressed. Back in the dealership I asked, “So, what kind of warranty are you offering?” The young salesman said, “Well, of course, it is not the same as for a new car. The car is ten years old. Everything is covered for the first thirty days. After that, all labor is free for as long as you own the car, but you must pay for the parts.”

Labor is usually the most expensive part of any car repair and VW parts were cheap. I had him repeat the terms a few times before I accepted I was understanding correctly. I bought the car.

I drove that car throughout Britain and Europe; I drove it back and forth from Amsterdam to wherever I was going to be working around the Mediterranean for the next five years, leaving the car in storage in the fall before I returned to the States for college and picking it up again in the spring before heading south, always by a different route. Garage Kost honored the warranty to the letter, for as long as I owned the car. I finally sold it in Greece for the same price I had purchased it, $400.

Many years later, when I was again in Amsterdam and having dinner with my old girlfriend and her husband, she told me about the spectacular funeral of our mutual friend Viktor IV. While we were on the topic of funerals, she also told me that the young used-car salesman from whom I had purchased my first car had risen to become the Director, the European equivalent to CEO, and that when he had died a few years earlier, over two hundred of his former customers has attended his funeral.

And that’s what customer service should be all about.