My only other experience of new car buying was one that I did by myself.  Ken was overseas for thirteen months, and the car we owned got caught outside in one of those Oklahoma rainstorms that don't come down, they come sideways. 

One of the windows was slightly cracked open--not a problem in a normal rain.  Big problem when the rain is almost completely horizontal.  Oklahoma wind.  If you don't live here, you wouldn't understand.  

The sun came out, the car molded.  Grey hairy looking stuff.  Up to then, it was a lovely car. Lincoln, 1955 or 56, I can't remember.  Just that it guzzled gas.  Comfortable, however.

I drove the Lincoln  to Tulsa into a Rambler car dealer.  (Money, i.e.. mpg spoke my language)  They must have seen me coming.  Out came a "million miles to the gallon" beauty.  Pink.   I bought it.  I married Ken in '56.  Our china was pink, my poodle skirt was pink, the world was pink in 56.  I thought it was pretty.  Don't ever buy a car for "pretty."  Don't ever buy a car for mpg.  You'll just pay dollars for mpg in some other way.  It's always a trade off.  Lower mpg comes with lower weight, bumpier, horrible ride and no longevity.

When Ken came home, the car lasted two weeks.  Pink was not a favorite  Marine Corps color.  You would have thought that he had learned his lesson (after I bought the pink Rambler) when I told him I wanted a Volkswagen Camper.   But no.  He always wanted to make me happy.  For some unknown reason, the guy was madly in love with me.

But love has its limits, and pink was the limit.  From then on, after the VW camper incident, Ken bought the cars.  

When I married him, he was driving a Jag XKE Convertible.  Baby blue.  He had good taste in cars.  Apparently, I didn't.