Often when you turn to the motoring page in a newspaper, you find yourself assailed by the fumes of petrol and the roar of engines. But if you’re anything like me, you’re not all about loud noises and going 10 over in the school zone. Motoring is a pleasure, not a task, and this column is for those of us who like to smell the roses as we drive through life.
The other day I realised that the time had come to replace my trusty old Camry. She had been complaining at the prospect of hills for some time and the clouds of smoke that billowed from the exhaust every time I turned over the engine had become alarming.
So I turned to Facebook Marketplace. Now Facebook has its uses. It’s a great place for sharing recipes with other users of the Kmart pie maker and the Dull Men’s Club is a haven for those who do not strive to be “interesting”. But as an emporium for used cars, it has its shortcomings.
One of which is that no trading standards apply. Now, if you want to sell a car, you are obliged to ensure that it can be driven safely on the roads. You must provide a roadworthy certificate, which is the minimum guarantee to the purchaser that their new chariot will not explode on the way home from the vendor’s house.
But surprisingly many sellers don’t bother with the niceties. They have no RWC. The car has a “few dents” – which tends to mean that it’s more dent than car if we’re honest (which let’s face it we’re not). It had a “careful owner”, who is careful not to mention that the car was written off back in 2018 and never really went since then.
It’s a struggle to find out what is actually wrong with the car and why it’s a little bit cheaper than you expected. And the struggle only starts there. Dragging further detail out of sellers is a mountain even Hillary would not fancy climbing. Arranging to see your potential conveyance is an ordeal. I’ve dated a few shy girls but none of them were quite as hard to make a liaison with as the seller of a slightly battered Hyundai, who would reveal only that he was in Raceview. Further details would follow when I arrived in the suburb.
Sir, I noted, do you want me to drive around the streets of Raceview hoping to bump into you? At least tell me what you look like.
When I did arrive to view the Hyundai, I was a little surprised to see it vanishing in a cloud of exhaust. I had been gazumped! Another keen buyer had snapped her up before I could even take her for a spin.
Well, never mind. On to the next one… I hope to share with you in my next column how I enjoy driving the car I did buy, always within the speed limit,
