A's Auto Nation LLC

They are very friendly and professional! As soon as I walked in I felt at home they gave me a great deal and they helped me with the car I needed, very happy with my purchase thank you.

Bought a car from this dealership and service greatly exceeded expectations. Car was in perfect condition and super affordable all things considered. Would 100% recommend.

The service was so Good. Before I got my car, he even gave me a car to use while preparing my car for pickup.

Wonderful gentleman to deal they did everything I asked them I would definitely recommend them

A real HONEST review (because somebody’s gotta tell you the truth) So, you’ve made your way to A’s Auto Nation on Farmington Rd. in Peoria, IL. Maybe you stumbled across this little shack by accident, or perhaps you were lured in by the intoxicating stench of burnt oil and false hope, masquerading as a sparkling Facebook Marketplace ad. Either way, congratulations: you’ve already made your first mistake. Buckle up—not really, you’re not going anywhere. Seriously. Run—don’t walk—from this scrapyard-turned-“dealership.” We took a vehicle for a spin. I was assured the car was “clean,” had a “smooth ride,” was a “steal,” and that I “should act fast!!” Yeah. I acted fast, all right—fast in getting the heck out of there. I climbed in and immediately noticed the radio was blaring “Today’s Top Hits.” Rookie tactic. These guys blast music hoping you won’t hear the symphony of groans, rattles, and metal-on-metal screams coming from under the hood. Nice try, A’s—I shut it off, and was immediately greeted by the unmistakable sound of two feral cats fighting inside a clothes dryer. Undeterred (because I’m stupid, apparently), I put it in drive. The car lurched forward like it had just been tased, and I swear I heard the transmission whisper, “Please… let me die.” But no, being insane, I pressed on, because I wanted the full experience. Accelerating brought forth noises I can only describe as… otherworldly. At 20 mph, it sounded like Chewbacca being strangled by a garbage disposal. At 30, it started to smell like burnt toast, which I’m pretty sure was the vehicle having a stroke and beginning its descent into the afterlife. At 40, the check engine light came on, then off, then started blinking in Morse code, “Get out while you still can!”. The tires wobbled like they were made of Jell-O. The brakes squealed like a barn full of terrified pigs. Every bump in the road sent the dashboard into fits of violent tremors, threatening to yeet itself into the passenger’s lap. When we got back, I politely told the salesman, “the car was making some interesting noises, I think the transmission is shot.” He responded, dead serious: “Oh, that’s just how Nissans are. You know, sporty.” No, A’s. That’s not “sporty.” That’s “haunted.” That car has seen things—horrible things. And don’t even get me started on the lot itself. It looks like an abandoned carnival had a lovechild with a junkyard. Every car is parked on some kind of bizarre incline like they’re mid-nosedive into oblivion. Half the windshields have cracks, the tires are bald, and I think one of the vehicles was still smoking. Bottom line: A’s Auto Nation is where cars go to die, and apparently, they’ll gladly sell you the corpse. Unless you enjoy spending your weekends stranded on the side of I-74 praying for a tow truck, STAY FAR AWAY. Consider this review your last friendly warning: A’s doesn’t sell cars—they sell regrets. You’re welcome.