Car Bombs And Car Buying –

Buying a Van in london - Part 1

So we're in sunny London again and as you know there's some serious bomb threats. I'm sure we're all feeling a massive sense of deja vu. People here are glaring at each other on the tube again. Everyone is suspicious, but still it's London and the people are also relaxed. You got have a good time here. After all it's London, innut?

Last time we were here it was around 7/7 two years ago, then we were in Delhi for their bombings and now were back here t rekindling those thoughts we used to have on the train.... 'is this the moment? What about that guy? I mean can you spot someone who's homicidal/suicidal? And what if they do look a little dodgy? Would you say something like - 'um excuse me. You look a little bit suss, mate. Are you thinking about, you know, doing us all in? - or do you just watch and wait for your moment to prove to yourself that you too can be just like Bruce Willis and save the day. I think of myself as more of a Dustin Hoffman reluctant hero type.

So yeah, the failed car bombs are all over the newspapers, TV, everywhere. And you can't help thinking of that failed suicide guy at Glasgow who tipped petrol all over himself and received 90% burns. Silly bastard. He's not dead, but in a highly guarded hospital with none of those virgins he was promised he'd receive in heaven for his service. I bet he's feeling ugly.

And I'm guessing it won't look too good on his CV either, failed suicide bomber. You can imagine the interviewer asking, 'So tell about how you left your last job? Why did you leave?' or if he manages to get to another party and there's the usual small talk, like some girl asking him, 'So tell men, what do you do?'

Anyway enough of that. We're about to start our euro road road trip while we make a bunch of documentaries. And the question on our lips isn't whether or not that failed suicide dude will make it to our next party, but s whether we buy a left hand or right hand drive van?

Buying a van in another country is mental. The rules are different, the locals use funny lingo, the words you'd expect to be used aren’t. For example in Australia you pay for your registration (a.k.a. your ‘Rego’) and get your rego sticker, so naturally what I asked when I called up about a van was, ‘Has it got registration?’

‘Course it has,’ came the reply, ‘Registered with DVLA ten years ago, in it?’

‘So it’s okay to drive then?

‘No, can’t you read the ad? It got no tax.’

I hang up feeling like I’m wearing a glowing neon beacon that says 'I’m foreign, I don't understand, so slap me or scam me.'

It reminds me of the first time we were here. The English say flip-flops instead of thongs, because over here a thong is a g-string. I guess a g-string over here is just something you use on a guitar. Anyway, one day we were sitting around the table with a bunch of English lads drinking and Sandy said, ‘Gee, these thongs my mum gave me are giving me some blisters.’

So we've been hunting for 2 weeks and my knowledge is growing. Tax is equivalent to our Rego sticker. Our plan has been to buy a left hand drive (LHD) vehicle because our goal is road tripping through Europe. LHD is ideal because you don't stick out. So we scoured the net, newspapers, trader mags for cheap vehicles, and you’d think with the UK being right next the Euro continent there’d be loads of LHDs for sale. Not the case. Of course if you got the cash you can buy anything. We don’t, we’re lucky enough to have a budget.

Enter plan B, we’ll just skip across the English Channel, buy something cheap and appropriate, and be on our way. This idea sounds easy but the reality of it is murky. How do you register it? What French address are we going to put on the forms? What forms do you need to fill in to transfer it into your name? What else do you need to buy a car in France?

‘Ummm… Pardon? Parlez-vous l'anglais ?

We’ve got a mate who lives in France. When she moved there she had a hell of a time trying to buy a car and she’s half French. She had to carry all her proof of identity around with her for months proving who she was for everything she needed to do. Things like buy a car, rent a house, open a bank account, change her underwear, you get the idea, until she got some official French looking papers. But she did say we were welcome to say we lived at her address even though she didn’t think we had the slightest chance of succeeding.

It was becoming painfully obvious to us too. Not having extreme proof of a French fixed address seemed to be a major obstacle, which is similar to the UK but we had an ace. We already have a UK address.

Plan C, we import a van from France back to the UK. Register it there before travelling back on the ferry to Europe.

‘Ummm....’ Sandy looked at me. ‘I don’t think so.

Plan D, we buy a van in England. Right hand drive – We deal with it!

Part 2 coming soon.