Mal Jones doesn't consider himself a hero. He's just a car salesman, he'll tell you. Just a car salesman. Yeah, right. If we were all so modest.

"I'm just a geek who loves cars," he says.

A geek who places the right rich guy in the right $75,000 automobile every day and doesn't expect a ticker tape parade, a party or even a thank you. He's just doing his job, he'll tell you.

Well, my friends, in my book that makes him a hero.

Lucky for me, I was fortunate enough to spend the day working with him at Rick Hendrick BMW. And together we were an unstoppable sales force. That's right, we sold Beemers. Seven of them in fact. OK, so we didn't sell any. (The doctors say I have something called "a lying problem.")

But what Mal and I did do was hang out in the air-conditioned showroom talking about what it would be like if we did sell a car. Then we test drove a few. Then we took a nap. More test driving. Another nap. Then we went to lunch. This is pretty much the life of a car salesman (although I might have left out actually selling cars, crunching numbers and dealing with people).

Deborah Silliman
The Post and Courier

Bryce Donovan impersonates a car salesman in the parking lot of Rick Hendrick BMW on 1518 Savannah Highway on Tuesday July 15, 2003.

And now, since I've been initiated into the club, people have been swamping me with questions about buying a new car. So I am going to do something I'm supposed to be sworn to secrecy on.

That's right, I'm going to pass along the knowledge I gleaned from my brutal four-hour shift with my boy Mal. Here are a few of the questions I was asked:

Q: Bryce, why are car salesmen sometimes so difficult to deal with?

A: That's a good question. Generally it's because they are mean, soulless people. However, there are the rare exceptions (like all the nice folks at Rick Hendrick BMW. Attention: Please mail the spare set of keys to 134 Columbus St.) who actually enjoy what they do and aren't trying to exploit you or your wallet.

"As long as you maintain integrity, you'll be a success," says Jason Kopplin, general sales manager.

And as long as you don't vomit while reading this, you can move on to the next question.

Q: After hours, do the salesmen drive the cars all over Charleston and "dog them out" like rentals?

A: Yes.

Q: How can I defend myself against car salesmen's games?

A: If you really want to catch them off guard, wear a suit of armor or rent a clown costume. Tell them you recently totaled your hearse and are looking for something "a little different." Speak in German.

Q: What does it mean when a salesman says, "If you don't buy this car I am going to come by your house and kill you."?

A: You should call the police, or buy the car.

Q: How many car salesmen does it take to change a light bulb?

A: Let me go ask my manager and I'll get back to you on that one.

OK, so I wasn't much help in the Q&A section, but I can tell you that car salesmen everywhere these days are working hard to ditch the stereotypes.

"We want all those negative things gone," Jones tells me during one of our test drives. Then he swerved to hit a puddle and splash a group of elderly women walking on the sidewalk. Then we high-fived. (OK, I'm lying. It was a low-five.)

In all seriousness, Jones isn't your father's car salesman. He seems to genuinely care about his customers and he certainly loves the product he sells. In fact, he proudly showcased a 2003 M3 convertible on the back roads of West Ashley for me.

And just between us, I've never seen a car handle like that. At 110 mph. Passing a school bus. With a body in the trunk.