I once regarded the process of buying or leasing a car with the highest level of contempt.  I hated everything about it: the hours upon hours of waiting in the most dismally commercial settings, the utter dishonesty that would reveal itself in the experience of comparing one’s research about any particular car with the sales staff’s unabashedly spouted malarkey about said car and, finally, the sales staff itself.  I would, in most cases, rather spend time with convicted felons than with car salesmen.  What a useless breed of wretched, revolting shitheads.