Smokers and Scammers

Buying a van in London – Part 2

London’s gone non-smoking crazy! Apparently you’re not allowed to smoke in your van. Not that I do, but how do they enforce that? It states this on the DVLA website (think motor registry) because we’ve trying to register our new van. But Australia will soon go non-smoking as well, won’t it? Or has that change already come into effect?

Anyway the night the smoking laws happened, about two weeks ago, millions of smoking parties were happening all around the city, in pubs, clubs, everywhere. London might have to buy a few Kyoto carbon points to make up for that night because everyone was chugging them down like it was their last time. It’s mental how many people smoke over here.

But it’s hard to know whether it will have any long term effects like making people give up though. My mate Chris says it has only stopped him going to the pub, but I reckon that’s open for debate because he told me in the pub. Others say pubs will lose their culture because you need a smoky environment to create an atmosphere, or you can’t drink without smoking, or it’s a general sign of the decline of our society, the usual arguments. The fact is though, (and I will say I’m biased being a non-smoker.) it used to be you’d have to wait until your fork was under nose before you could smell the food through the haze. Now you can smell your friend’s fart from under the table. Yes, there are some good things and bad things.

Anyway, the good news is we’ve got a van! And it’s one sexy mother of an asset too. In fact, it’s our first asset Sandy and I have bought together. I wanna name it Gerald.

We did take the easy option of RHD, even though very soon, it’ll feel like we’re driving on the wrong side of the road. Oh well, it’s always nice to trade in your old problems for a whole new set, isn’t it?

Buying it though was an eye opener into London society. Sandy found an ad for an ex-postal van, they sort of look like the old Bedfords, think the A-Team. The best thing though, it has all our requirements and is well under our budget.

Quick!! Call ‘em up,’ Sandy said.

A very proper dude with very proper queen’s English accent answer the phone.

‘Yes Hello,’ he said and told me that the first person who sees it will buy it. ‘You have to understand,’ he said, ‘I just must have it gone by the end of the day.’

It sounded like a massive inconvenience for him, for us it was perfect. We arranged to meet at Kew Gardens station. We hadn’t been to the gardens before, so it was a good plan B if things didn’t work out because we’ve heard they’re meant to be impressive. On a side note, the Kew Gardens area is a ‘proper posh’ neighbourhood.

Now I wouldn’t consider myself a snob, but at the station I was expecting someone who would be a little more dressed up. And I guess I like my people who are snobs to look and dress like they’re cashed up, you know, like they’re posh. This guy had a shaggy unshaven beard and wearing tracksuit pants.

'Hi.’ I shook his hand.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘My chauffeur was too drunk to drive.’

Sandy and I looked at each other with raised eyebrows. ‘Was he joking?’

‘Did he say he was drunk?’

As were walking to the car, he stopped to talk to a few people we passed on the street. ‘Hello, how are you doing today?’ or ‘Shall I’ll catch back here in a few minutes?’ Or to guy standing in front of a café smoking, ‘Oh, its terrible, isn’t it? How we’re being pushed outside.’

The guy at the café laughed and puffed. I started to think perhaps I was being too judgemental. Maybe the clothes don’t make the man. Loads of London’s rich and famous probably get around in tracky-daks. It was easy to imagine old dancing Madonna popping down to the off-license in them. Keith Richards probably can’t function in anything else after all his big nights out on the town. I admit I might have been too quick to pigeon hole him.

Besides, in the ad for the van it said a video production company was selling it. This was also one of the reasons why we were so keen to come. So I quickly accepted he was odd and started to pick his brains on his business to see if we could learn something. How long have you been doing it? What gigs have you done in the past? Where and when did you start?

‘What’s with all the questions?’ he snapped.

We’re starting a video production company too.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘This van was initially bought for a music video. See, we don’t need it anymore. It’s too small in the shot.’

‘What band?’

‘Oh God, I can’t remember. Maybe Kylie Minogue.’

At this stage we were looking over the van. It appeared to be okay, well it had a little rust but as far as that meant anything to us, it looked like a van. Neither of us are very mechanical minded, nor have we ever owned a car, so we knew we’d be a little out of our depth so we’d been madly researching and devised a check list of things to look out for.

‘Can we take it for a drive?’ I asked

‘Sure, hope in.’ He jumped in the driver’s seat and I’m thinking, ‘shouldn’t I be driving?’ It was all happening so quick. But we all jumped in, with him driving. Then he starts telling us how Australia’s immigration policy is excellent and the English should adopt the same methodology.

‘Show me your papers?’ I said.

‘Oh God! They’re down there somewhere.’ He pointed at a pile of crumpled papers. ‘I do hope nobody see me driving this van. I usually drive a Rolls, you know?’

Mate, I’m thinking, I’d be more worried about someone seeing me in those pants.

‘Did you know this mirror’s broken?’ Sandy pointed at the passenger side.

‘Oh, that’s nothing, just six pounds at Halfords to replace.’

At this point, as Sandy looked across to check the other mirror a truck zoomed close. A clash of steal and glass sounded as the two vehicles connected. The driver’s mirror vanished.

‘As I said.’ Our seller kept driving. ‘Six pounds at Halfords.’

‘Um….” I looked at him in disbelief. ‘Is that standard practice? If your mirror gets wiped out, you don’t stop! You just keep going?’

He sighs, shaking his head like I’m a very difficult child, one with slow problems. ‘Well you tell me, whose fault is it?’

I looked at the mirror and back at the paperwork. ‘Who’s Dr Gavins?’ I asked

‘He’s the guy who owned it before us?’

‘Where’s the name of your company?’

‘Give it here.’ He snatches the papers from me. ‘It’s written on here.’

‘Can we stop to have another look at the van?’ Sandy asked.

‘You’ve had a look.’

‘What?’ Sandy looks at me. ‘He can’t be serious.’

I take the papers back of him, saying, ‘We’d like to have another look. Pull over.’

‘I don’t have much time.’

‘We do.’

He sighs, huffs, and pulls over. We jump out. At this stage I hate this guy. I know some people just aren’t meant to get along. And perhaps I am a tracksuit pants bigot, but the car is cheap.

‘So what’s the name of your company?’ Sandy asks.

He mumbled something.

‘Sorry?’

He mumbled it again.

‘Um…. What did you say?’

‘Oh, for God’s sake! It’s written on the papers. You can read, can’t you?’’

‘No, it’s not.’ I said. ‘It’s not written anywhere.’

He snatches the paper work again, re-reading. ‘You don’t need to have your name on the paperwork. Barry buys lots of cars all the time. If he didn’t fill it out that was up to him. Call the motor registry.’ He pointed to a number on the papers. ‘They will tell you.’

So we went back to the café where we started and I called them.

‘I don’t understand. What is the matter with you people? This is only a thousand pounds. I get the feeling you don’t trust me.’

I was getting that feeling too. We didn’t even know his name. But the people at the motor registry said he was right, he didn’t have his name on the papers to sell the car.

‘Okay’ I said, ‘We’ll buy it.’

He smiled.

‘But I wanna copy down your ID.

‘No, that’s it. I’m offended. I’m not showing you my I.D. its personal to me. I used to sign autographs you know.

‘Okay. Let’s go,’ Sandy said. ‘This guy sucks.’

We didn’t see the gardens either that day. Later we worked out it had all the markings of a good grift or con. It was the bargain that’s just too good to be true, it was in a pleasant area where you wouldn’t expect to be conned and he ‘supposedly’ knew lots of people, plus there was no fixed address because he was selling it off the street, and we had no way of later identifying him. We supposed if we bought it he’d walk away with our money and when we went back to the van it’d be gone and so would he.

But what we did like was his type of van. So we checked out a bunch of others and finally settled on one which was the same make, an ex-royal post van and it did cost us a little more than the dodgy guy’s but it is a newer model and in much very better condition and has very low mileage. Plus it’s bright red!

So we leave the UK tomorrow. First stop IKEA at Antwerpen, Belgium. We gotta buy a bed for the van and they’re way cheaper there than in the UK. Weird, but true.

Write again soon.

Tom