Page 2/The Battalion/Monday, October 13,- 1986 Opinion The Battalion (USPS 045 360) Member of* Texas Press Association Southwest Journalism Conference The Battalion Editorial Board Cathie Anderson, Editor Kirsten Dietz, Managing Editor Loren Steffy, Opinion Page Editor Frank Smith, City Editor Sue Krenek, News Editor Ken Sury, Sports Editor Editorial Policy The Battalion is a non-profit, self-supporting newspaper oper ated as a community service to Texas A&:M and Bryan-College Sta tion. Opinions expressed in The Battalion are those of the editorial board or the author, and do not necessarily represent the opinions of Texas A&M administrators, faculty or the Board of Regents. The Battalion also serves as a laboratory newspaper for students in reporting, editing and photography classes within the Depart ment of Journalism. The Battalion is published Monday through Friday during Texas A&M regular semesters, except for holiday and examination periods. Mail subscriptions are $17.44 per semester, $34.62 per school year and $36.44 per full year. Advertising rates furnished on re quest. Our address: The Battalion, 216 Reed McDonald Building, T exas A&M University, College Station, TX 77843. Second class postage paid at College Station, TX 77843. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to The Battalion, 216 Reed McDonald, Texas A&M University, College Station TX 77843. M&R6UUI&S Lw P”; Car dealer red tape exceeds worst bureaucratic nightmares Craig Renfro I b o u g h t a pickup this week end. Well, I actu ally didn’t buy it, but a $1,000 down-pay men t, con i t esy o 1 m y parents, is in the hands of that su per-colossus mo tor vehicle com pany whose name happens to have four letters — yes, it’s the “F” word. So much for my choice of dealers. Ac tually they are all about the same — overpriced. But that didn’t matter because time was running short on the much-talked- about, lowest-in-years, supergrand au tomotive deal of all time — 2.9 percent annual financing. Actually, it was my parent’s decision that I take advantage of the situation, and with their financial backing how could I refuse? I was planning to get a new truck in December, after gradua tion, but the thought of saving nearly $2,000 on finance charges proved to be too much for me. I never said I was a strong person when it comes to money. I was excited at the thought of having a new vehicle, but I didn’t care for the process involved in purchasing one. First of all, the dealers make you feel like they are doing you a favor by selling you this “fine automobile.” My parents and I went to four dealerships during a whirlwind tour of Central Texas show rooms, and at each one of them the salesman acted like he didn’t care if I bought one or not. “Well, there are only two left, you bet- John Anders Cuest Cohniniist I'm sorry, but not for one min ute am I buying all this weeping, w h i n i n g a n d gnashing of teeth about the State Fair roller coaster being stilled for this ses- quicentennial spin. Sure, we wanted the old, white, wooden wonder to be there whenever we needed it, but who in their right mind would want to ride it, anyway? I mean, have any of you actually ridden on the old cruiser? Really? Didn’t you just hate it? The best thing about the old Comet coaster, stilled this year for insurance purposes, is that the line was always so long it gave vou a decent out for not buving a ticket. One of the awful things about growing up in Dallas and hitting the fair like clockwork every year was that sooner or later you’d wind up on the roller coaster despite every excuse or alibi you could muster. I remember with shame the derisive laughter 1 suffered the year I bowed to a siege of post-nasal drip. I don’t think anybody bought my story. The next year I went on crutches af ter a football injury against the mighty Rusk Rams, who pounded us like a drum, 37-7, in the Cotton Bowl. I got carried off the Field to the cheers of the Hill Highlanders drill team, the only time they ever had cause to celebrate anything I accomplished on a football field. I loved being on crutches — it gave me honorable discharge from ev ery nasty ride on the midway that year. The roller-coaster ritual was obscene; to demonstrate your macho, you were supposed to throw caution to the wind and ride with your hands held high over your head, stick-’em-up style. I hated that. The guy in the front car always made a big spectacle of doing that, looking around at the rest of us to make sure we were following suit. I wanted to yell, “Down in front!” The happiest day of my life occurred when I was a college freshman visiting the fair, and, for once, nobody dared me to go on the roller coaster. The idea, I suppose, is that we were too grown-up for that sort of nonsense. The rapture. The bliss. Those brief years between be ing a newly formed adult and then be coming a kid-at-heart-who-thinks-rid- ing-the-coaster-will-be-a-hootwere some of the happiest days of my life. I hate to have to do the things I’ve outgrown just because suddenly it’s somebody’s idea of a hoot. If you don’t get to be a grown-up when you want, you can always pout and hold your breath until you turn blue. ter get it while you can, because if you don’t someone else will.” I didn’t care for their attitude but 1 figured I wouldn’t have to deal with them for long. Was 1 ever wrong. The process began at noon Monday. It was cold and rainy, not exactly what you would call the perfect car-shopping day. I'd finally decided on the truck I wanted, which was pretty easy to do since there were only two to choose from. I took it for a test-drive to see how it handled. In the mile and a half I drove it nothing broke. I decided this was the one for me. Next began the part I didn’t want to do — paperwork. I thought Texas A&M and the federal government were bad, but this exceeded all of my bureaucratic nightmares. They wanted to know ev erything about me and my money his tory. Unfortunately, my credit history is limited. I have never purchased a new car, a house, real estate or taken out any type of loan from a commercial lender. So that meant I must have a co-signer for the loan. Fortunately, my parents were there to put their John Hancock on the dotted line. Then began the credit check. And that marked the beginning of many “unfortunate circumstances” that took place before 1 finally drove off the lot. It was nearly 1:3() p.m. by the time we Finished with the paperwork, and we were hungry. The salesman assured us that when we got back from lunch ev erything would be ready to roll. I really didn’t believe him, but as long as it was ready by evening that would be fine. It wasn’t ready when we got back from lunch, so we began the wait. I’m not a patient person when it comes to waiting, but I Figured it wouldn't^ bad. At least l wasn't standingimk We waited and waited, but to no aval As l p.m. approached, prospe didn't look good for an evenin| ery. 1 wenty minutes later thesalesim ager told us that the computer system Austin had crashed earlier in the ternoon. This upset me almost to point of doing something I wouldw ably regret later. Why couldn’t she have told use; instead of having us sit around all ternoon? They didn’t even offerta cup of coffee, but 1 played hostimk coffee room and made some. There* nothing left to do but comebadtl next day. B The computer system would be ating at 9 a.m. and by luncheverytk should be signed, sealed and delivers We arrived at the dealer by 11 a and. of course, it wasn’t reads.So went shopping and to lunch befe coming back at 2 p.m. The trud wasn't ready. 1 was really becominjiE patient and wanted to smash tl I maintained my cool. Finally, at 3:30 p.m., I was relieved! my anguish. T he deal had been;: proved. It was a time of general men: ment for me, complete with balla and dancing girls (just kidding). It took about another hourbefon actually drove off the lot becauseile tendants had to clean up my vehicle! make it smell nice. I insisted than® ing it wouldn’t be necessary beta was raining. They said they kneu but they had to do it anyway.Son I believed them. Craig Renfro is a senior journals: major and a columnist for The Bar; ion. Confessions of a coasterophobic I’ll tell you how much I hate that white whale, or any other coasters of its ilk, for that matter. I hate them so much I even refused one year to accompany my kid on the kiddy rollercoaster at the midway. I'm talking a silly, innocuous little ride with all the breakneck velocity and excitement of a teeter-totter. My son was in elementary school and naturally assumed that his big, hairy- chested daddy would show him the ropes. Instead, I balked completely at riding the kiddy roller coaster. He wanted to know why, of course, and for the first time in my life, I heard myself telling the truth. No stories of post-nasal drip or ceremonial crutches. I looked Kirk in the eye and gave him the lowdown straight from the shoul der: “Son, your old man is a sissy. I’m scared to go on that ride. I think it’s good that we get this settled right now before you get into those ‘my daddy can lick your daddy’ games with the other kids.” When you think of it, that’s a pretty amazing admission of wimphood for a father to lay on his young son. Somehow I felt a load lifted off my shoulders. My son has since learned to fight his own battles, knowing Dad is always there right behind him — win or tie. a John Anders is a columnist for The Dallas Morning News. Mail Call What was the objective? EDITOR: I question both the motives and the intelligence underlying theactionsol Andy Vann, Jeff Newberry, David Kohel and assorted others at niidnightve! practice on Oct. 3. According to the Battalion article on Wednesday, Vann wished to gauge the Corps’ reaction to a violation of tradition. Newberry intended to obtainf crowd reaction by the violence which (in his own words) he knew would result. Kohel disliked the limiting aspects of tradition and desired greater spontaneity of action. The motivation of the remaining 12 individuals was doubtless similar. Setting aside the relative merits of tradition for the moment, valid and practical reasons exist for not allowing people to run wild on Kyle Field during yell practice. Such behavior interferes with the managementofa University f unction and detracts from the enjoyment of the audience. Furthermore, it poses safety problems for those individuals on the fieldas well as for those attempting to cross it. Why was it necessary to create an incident in the first place? Thestiidei® who ran onto the field deliberately set out to provoke the cadets, placing themselves in the wrong by ignoring not only tradition but also common sense. The cadets who responded to the provocation probably will be reprimanded and instructed to tone down their behavior. Who will reprimand the civilians? Perhaps the sole positive result of this will be that future violators will be removed from the field more gently. Was that their objective? Or did theyjust need attention? Alex Mabry ’89 Accompanied by 12 signatures Letters to the editor should not exceed 300 words in length. The editorial staff reserves then: to edit letters for style and length, but will make every effort to maintain the author's,ini® Each letter must be signed and must include the classification, address and telephonemimbtt the writer. Alii