Every handover video looks the same: keys on a walnut table, a bow on the wing, someone’s dad crying happily in the background. Mine went a little differently.
I noticed the chip in the paint about an hour after I got it home, under garage lighting that was a lot less forgiving than the showroom’s. It’s small — you’d need to know it was there to find it — but it’s exactly the kind of thing that’s much easier to get a dealer to sort out before you’ve driven off the forecourt than after. I’m still working out whether that’s a hill worth dying on for something this minor.
The bigger adjustment has been the service advisor relationship. Three calls in the first month, none of them urgent, all of them me wanting reassurance that a noise, a smell, or a warning light was nothing. He’s been patient about it in a way that makes me suspect I’m not his first nervous first-time owner. This logbook exists partly so I stop calling him quite so often, and start writing it down instead.