Tim GULLA LEDGER STAFF WRITER Having not purchased a new car in years, a few things have been jumping out at me as I’ve been scouring car lots across a multi-county, and even multi-state area lately.

One is that there’s nothing like the smell of a new car. Maybe it’s a guy thing, but that smell is downright intoxicating. If I won the Powerball, I’d be tempted to buy a new car every four months just to keep that smell.

Another thing that jumps out at me is that I hate negotiating with salespeople, so I still don’t have a new car.

If, during one of those life or death-type questions, I only had a choice between negotiating for a car or having a root canal, I actually think I’d rather schedule an appointment with my dentist.

For the life of me, though, I can’t understand why.

I’ve always had a good head on my shoulders for numbers and I’ve always been the type to research things before making a purchase.

My trusted friend, the Internet, arms me with almost everything I need to know to negotiate from a position of strength, such as the dealer’s cost, incentives and rebates, what others are paying for the same type of vehicle, and what dealerships across the Carolinas have on their lots so I can find the exact model with the exact options I want.

Yet I still can’t stand the negotiation process.

You get taken to a little cubicle or non-descript little office. You get asked all sorts of questions about this, that or the other thing, and then the perky salesperson says he or she has to go run the numbers with their manager and you’re left there, sitting alone, staring at a framed photo of the salesperson’s wife or kids as they check your credit score.

Since I really don’t care for sitting still, I always walk out of the office, or cubicle, and go peruse the lot again. They’ll come and find me if they really want to sell a car, I reason.

And when they do find me, and give me the numbers I’ve been waiting to hear, I’m still left with doubt and apprehension.

A few car companies, such as the defunct Saturn brand, have gone with a no-dickering approach to alleviate some of the consumer angst. The price you saw on the sticker was the price everyone paid, if I recall correctly.

We never negotiate on other purchases, such as food at the grocery store and shirts or slacks at the mall.

And trust me, the cashiers at the grocery store will not knock a couple percent off your paper towel, cereal or orange juice price, even if you ask nicely.

So why will we pay asking price for some items, but not others?

As novel as that no-dickering car sales approach seemed, though, it’s almost un-American.

If cars were around when the U.S. Constitution was written, I’ll bet they would have included dickering with a car dealer in the Bill of Rights. “Article 107: And in the pursuit of happiness, no horseless carriage shall ever be sold at listed price and all citizens are entitled to start the bargaining at 3 percent over invoice.”

Wheeling and dealing has always been a part of the car-buying process. And so, perhaps, is the apprehension that comes along with it.