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"This, my friends," announced the used car salesman, "is a real creampuff. I am telling you, it's an EXCELLENT car for your money."

Creampuff? Did he actually use the word CREAMPUFF? I couldn't believe my ears.

"You would be CRAZY if you didn't get THIS little dreamboat," he continued. "I can sell THIS car all day long!"

Zen Buddhist was obviously starry-eyed. Being both impressionable and naive, she was already leaning toward a car that would put her over her budget. My friend Rick, his daughter, and I were there with her, knowing that if we weren't there to intervene, she'd be signing a contract which would obligate her to payments that would result in her car being repo'd within a month.

Zen hadn't needed a car until her old beater had blown up on the highway one day when she was on her way to work. The last time she'd been in the market for a car was many years ago, and she simply had no real idea what it was going to take.

"I really like that car," she said dreamily, pointing to another one. I winced. You don't let on about the car you prefer until you're down to the last moment.

"Now THAT," he began enthusiastically, "THAT..."

I tuned him out, hoping that we'd be able to convince Zen that she had to think sensibly. She was on a tight budget with no trade-in, and could never afford $300 - $400 a month plus the insurance she'd need to cover such "creampuffs" which might explode in creamy glory on the highway anyway, leaving her both with payments and no car.

We'd already gone to a couple car lots. She was terribly disappointed to see what we thought were sensible cars when she'd set her heart on something much more glamorous and expensive. We repeatedly discussed her budget with her, but Zen's mind was set: She wanted a nicer car and would somehow save money to afford it. We had to change her mind. Fast.

Zen's car had blown up several towns away, despite her putting a vast amount of money into it's repairs. It was an American-made car (thus a low-quality one) and couldn't be expected to last even half the time a Japanese-import could. So, Zen was now determined to buy Japanese and wouldn't consider another American-made car under any circumstances.

Though we understood her reasoning (and even agreed with it) we tried to convince her that an older Toyota or Honda was the way to go. By older, we meant something manufactured in the 80s or 90s, purchased from an individual instead of a dealer, and something that could be paid for outright so that she wouldn't be locked

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