DVT DAY 173

It is an in controvertible fact that motor car traders are bastards. I go to my “we buy any car” appointment having been offered a valuation of £950. I of course expect a hassle. I arrive and an over friendly person, over weight, and a prole sack dress sense takes my V5 to “check it”. This person returns with a clip board and wanders around the car pretending to know what is being looked at. A few lines are scribbled on the board while I remain in the car and watch in awe of the technical expertise that this person clearly has no idea about. It disappears into the shack to check “what they can offer”. It got all the hallmarks of bullshit written all over it. It strolls, actually more rolls, out and says “we can offer you £700”. I immediately indicate clearly that given the low mileage, good condition, the full years MOT and excellent running order that their offer was derisory and that I would not be accepting their offer. My V5 was returned with the most insincere platitudes of understanding. I drove off cursing myself for being so optimistic and hopeful, older, wiser and even more convinced the motor trade is shit.

I get home and log onto Gumtree and for £26 put the Wolf up for sale. Its an easy process and very effective. The moment the ad went live I got a text offering me £500, which I politely declined. Then a call and then within three minutes I had sold the car for £850. A weird guy who told me a story of being gazumped on a car in Nottingham and said he would pay cash, arrive in two hours and asked if I would take the ad down. I said that if we had a deal then I would and he asked that I save his number and use a password to check it was him. Redbull was his choice of password. So I waited for two hours and he rocked up with a “mate” who turned out to be a mechanic, which on his performance I believed. We go out to the car and start it up while mechanic man looks and listens under the hood. He notes the fan has kicked in on start up which is unusual. He notes the coolant is not the nice pink colour it should be and is in fact very dark and dirty. He also checks the oil level and finds its low and generally the car needs a service. I go for a drive with mechanic man, who drives and we “idly” chat cars and garage space and driving history and al the casual car inquisition crap yo expect. We drive a village down and back. On our return we flip the lid again and he looks again at the engine, he’s not convinced, I can tell. He then notes that the cylinder head gasket is leaking oil at the rear and to one side! Bollocks I think I’m stuffed, this is a major negotiating problem. We lock the car up and the more rotund and surly one starts with the “we are interested” speech. Here we go. “I’ll offer you £400”. “Fuck off and go home” was the start of my rant, which continued as I walked back down my drive. The mechanic, at least looked a little embarrassed and started to make excuses for his fat moron friend, and then we started to haggle, he trying to say he could see I was an alright bloke and could we at least talk. We talked and I refused his offers and then said if we could not get to £800 I was out and started to walk away. At that point we agreed, shook hands and we went inside to do the paper work, while my daughter counted the money. With everything signed off they left. I waved them off partly relieved that moron man had given me good reason to be righteously indignant and knowing that a leaking head gasket was worth more than £50 off the asking price. If they had been reasonable in their offer I would have been knackered.

I waved them off and immediately got on the DVLA website and reported the change of ownership, job done, almost. I then spent several minutes waiting on the phone to Sainsbury’s insurance before getting to tell them not to renew my insurance, which was due in 10 days. So I was at last Wolf free, road tax free, and insurance free with money in my back pocket. A day of aggravation, adventure and interaction with my fellow species members that did nothing to raise my opinion of the motor trade.

Just as I finish all my car chores my partner and her brother arrive home from a research trip to a mobility centre with a view to convincing their mother to go for one. Nice to chat and relax after such a day of lows and highs. My evening was quietly waiting for Tesco to save us from starvation and a chance to play hide and seek provisions. Then more Heros and a chance to blog.