I bought a Mazda3 in August. 6-speed MT with four doors and a hatch. I love it, I really do. I got all the things you can get in that car, except for the fancy floor mats and cargo nets and the nifty spoiler package they sell for $1500.
A weird thing happened today, though. I got a box in the mail from Mazda. It was a serious looking box. Black like my Mazda and shrink-wrapped like something that is shrink-wrapped.
Inside this formidable box was a bunch of shiny pamphlets and brochures, imploring me to do things like buy extended warranty coverage for their fine automobile that might just turn to dust after 3 years or 36,000 miles. There was also a request to sign up on their web site, which I did two months ago. They also included a slightly thicker than printer-paper card for me, in the shape of a card. It has my VIN on it. In case I lose my car, I guess.
But the most amazing thing of all was that they gave me not one, but four Mazda window decals. Presumably, I am supposed to put one on each of the four sides of the car, on the windows, to indicate to those unaware that I am, in fact, driving a Mazda. I mean, how else could they possibly know without window decals?
Buying a car is bad enough with the dealership name plastered to the trunk. A Ford dealer even drilled holes in my car and attached the name in “chrome” script.
Now I make it clear the deal is off if there’s an ad on the car, unless the dealership pays me $500 a week.
But if you ever buy a Mac, you’ll be well prepared for that decorative decal debacle of advertising assholery.
I just put front brake pads on my buddy’s 2010 Mazdaspeed 3 today. Somewhat more difficult than most brake jobs, but not all that bad. He has about 90K miles on the car and it was it’s first brake job.
I bought a 2015 Mazda6 Grand Touringback in January. It’s the first new car I ever bought, and it could very well be the last car I ever buy. It has all the bells and whistles, and I did get the extended warranty package, but from my insurance company. I love it–it’s so classy-looking. In fact, it’s way classier than me. I practically needed to lose 20 pounds, get a new wardrobe, have plastic surgery, a new hairstyle, and new makeup just to be seen in it.
It’s dark blue and in a dim light you can’t tell it from a Lexus. The other day, a dark blue Maseratipassed me on the road, and I swear, you would be hard-pressed to tell them apart in a glance.
When I was buying my Tundra, it had a “Proudly Made in Texas” sticker on the rear glass. I told them I wouldn’t take the truck until it was removed. (It’s an Arkansas thing.)
