Rusty by G. A. Watson - HTML preview

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Chapter 9

Buying a second hand car on your own, at least for me, wasn’t easy. I’d never had to think about it before. My dad picked my first car for me and Jake picked the only other car I’d had. I signed the papers and paid the money. Now that Jane was without a car, and having the extra money from her rent, I decided it was time to get myself mobile again.

Determined not to call my dad and ask for help, I searched the internet. I had, maybe, £5000 to spend. Internet searching can be so frustrating. It asked for a price range, it gave me cars that were nowhere near my price limit. I looked for garages within a ten mile radius and was rewarded with garages at the other end of the county and even in neighbouring counties. I didn’t know what car I wanted and that was another problem. I gave up looking at the internet. The local paper would at least have details of local garages.

I selected three garages that appeared to have a choice of cars at the price I could afford and which I could reach by public transport. Jane was now back home with me but she was hardly in a fit state to go hunting for a car. Plus, I was determined to do it on my own. I had to become an independent woman. At the first garage I explained I knew nothing about cars, nor did I have any real idea of what I wanted. I could sense his excitement at getting rid of something he’d had on the books for a long time. He talked quickly; full of technical details that meant nothing to me. The car he recommended was big, much bigger than I needed. He seemed reluctant to offer anything else and I quickly moved on.

At garage number two, the salesman was more approachable. He had three small cars he felt would suit me, all within my price range. I liked two of them. The third one was grey and I didn’t like the colour. I tried haggling about the price. I didn’t have a car to part exchange, so I thought I should get a discount. Without answering directly, he led me to another car he thought I might be interested in. I liked it immediately. It was painted with flowers. It was different, which appealed to me. “It’s lovely,” I told him. I was taken aback by his reply.

“But not as lovely as the lady it could belong to.” Was he flirting with me? I didn’t know whether to be pleased or offended. He was good looking and in my current state, it gave my ego a boost. On the other hand, I wasn’t ready to give back any banter and it made me nervous. “One careful lady owner,” he continued. “She had it from new. She didn’t want to part with it but her husband’s got a job with the parliament in Strasbourg. It was a close thing between going with him or staying here for the car.” I could understand her indecision. It was so unusual it would be a wrench to part with it. “I was sure you’d like the car. It suits you: beautiful bodywork, neatly turned out. Low mileage, so it still has plenty of go. The lady insisted I only sold Daisy, that was what she called the car, to someone who really deserved her. You, my dear, match Daisy’s attributes in all respects.” The more I looked, the more I wanted the car; wanted Daisy.

Unfortunately, it was six thousand pounds, well outside my price range. I asked again about a discount for not having anything to part exchange.

“A deal can always be done if you make an offer that I find acceptable,” he said. “It all depends on what you are prepared to offer.” I suggested five thousand, and smiled sweetly. It was worth a try.

“And?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.  I asked what he meant. “It hardly covers my costs,” he replied. “I’d need something extra if I were to accept such a low offer. I suggested five two; I was stretching my budget. “It’s still too little in straight cash terms. One of the reasons the car is a bit pricier than some of the others is the servicing. Servicing is important. I said I’d make sure I had it serviced regularly at his garage.

It was plain I wasn’t going to get the car at a price I could afford. I said I’d go away and think about it.

There were no cars at the last garage that really interested me. My mind kept going back to Daisy. I returned home weary and defeated. I told Jane all about Daisy and about the conversation with the salesman. Jane laughed. “Don’t you realise what he was suggesting?” she asked. I had no idea. “He wasn’t just flirting with you, he was propositioning you. The ‘extra’ that might make the offer acceptable was you. And for the discount he was suggesting might be available, I don’t think he was considering a one-night stand. Don’t you see? The bodywork, neatly turned out, plenty of go and servicing weren’t really about the car, but about you.” I was stunned. Why didn’t he say so, I asked. “He wanted you to make the offer; then he would negotiate once the deal had been agreed in principle. There was no harm done if, like you, the suggestion wasn’t understood. If you understood but were offended, he’d say he was always talking about the car and you were the one who’d misunderstood. Quite clever really.” I felt a fool. I was angry with myself for being so naive. Jane let the matter drop.

Later that evening Jane asked if I’d be offended if she offered to loan me the extra money. She realised how much I wanted the car and didn’t want me disappointed. She wouldn’t charge interest and I could pay her back whenever I had some spare money. It took her the whole evening and two bottles of wine to convince me. She then suggested she went to the garage alone while I stood out of sight. Once a deal had been agreed, she’d call me and I’d come to sign the papers. She insisted she felt well enough for the task.

“How did you get him to accept £5,400?” I asked when we got back to the house.

“I told him he wasn’t going to get many buyers for the car as it was. I said I might be interested if he did a complete re-spray. He wasn’t going to agree, so I started to walk away. Your trouble was you showed him how keen you were. He knew you’d pay the asking price just to have it. We negotiated a deal based on me getting a re-spray done myself. When I said it was still too much, he didn’t offer me the deal he offered you. You just have to look at me to know why. I offered £5000, he said £5600 and we settled on £5400. You should have seen his face when you walked round the corner. He thought you had come back to buy the car at the asking price. Give him his due, when he realised he’d been done, he was gracious in defeat. I quite liked him. If it hadn’t been for his suggestion to you, I might have been tempted to flirt a bit.” I told her I’d have the £5000 by the end of the week, if she’d pay when I picked the car up on the Thursday. I hadn’t bought the car on my own, but I’d learned a lot about negotiating for the future.