Buying a used car is like going to a dentist who wants to knock out your old teeth and sell you new ones. Everybody involved in the process is assuredly biased, possibly psychotic, and actively wants to do you bodily harm. More sad, dissatisfied people have left car dealerships than strip clubs, and it's no wonder: Cars are extremely complicated, terribly expensive, and for some reason every one is guarded by a small gang of pathological liars. It's one of the worst experiences of your life, and you need somebody trustworthy to help you. Unfortunately, you've got me. Lucky for you, I have bought and destroyed more cars than is technically allowable by the United States government, and am therefore legally obligated to actually try to help you in this column, which I do as a "service" to the "community." I think we can get through this, if you take my advice to heart.*