Well, that was less traumatic than I thought it would be. With Andy navigating, because we were in my little blue car for purposes of possible part exchange, we headed off to a car dealership in Stoke. I’ve not driven in Stoke very much, mostly because it freaks me out. It’s like a small Birmingham - unfathomable roundabouts, two lanes suddenly becoming five lanes, cars coming at you from all directions, that sort of malarkey. Sometimes the freak out factor is increased by Andy saying things like, ‘Stay in this lane…oh, is it this lane? No…it’s that lane…oh…no it isn’t, it’s this lane, back where you were…’ which elicits comments from me like, ‘This is why I don’t like driving in strange places,’ and possibly a bit of swearing, but anyway, we arrived safely at the dealership. Phew!
I spied the car I was after and stood in front of it in admiration and with an air of ‘a salesperson may approach me now, I am ready to purchase a car’ about me. A salesman did just that. Could he help me? Yes, I want to buy THAT car. I even pointed, like a five year old with their eyes on a particularly attractive bun in a bakery window. Do you have an appointment, said the salesman. No, I said. Never mind, step this way, said the salesman. Must have been the smell of a quick sale in the air that appealed. I was pleased I hadn’t wasted time pre-booking an appointment. See, just turn up and loiter. It’s what I do in Aldi when I go shopping. Never failed to achieve a purchase yet.
We were given tea and biscuits whilst Sam the Salesman took details of my old car for part-exchange and asked how I wanted to pay for the new one. When I said ‘cash’ he said he would give me a quote for finance anyway, which I suppose he has to try and persuade me into because that’s how they make their money. However, the finance quote never materialised. Must have been the steely glint in my middle-aged woman’s eye. The comment about disparity between finance loan interest rates (4.8%) and savings rates (0.5%) probably helped. I was pleased we didn’t waste time faffing with finance quotes.
Sam the Salesman popped off to bring out the test drive car which was an identical model to the one I wanted to buy. The one I wanted was a pre-registration one which has just 10 miles on the clock. It’s basically brand new, but, because it was pre-registered at the end of June, it was just over £2500 cheaper than ordering a ‘new’ new one. Also, it was THERE, in stock. No waiting for some manufacture time to elapse. I’m glad I didn’t waste £2500 going for a ‘new’ new one, for the sake of 10 miles. Nor weeks waiting for a ‘new’ new one to be delivered. Andy wondered why anyone would do that. I didn’t have an answer because it puzzled me, too. When more than half your life has past you by, you don’t want to waste weeks waiting for things to happen.
Had a test drive around bits of Stoke. It was at this point I realised how rattly and bimbly my old car has become. And how what is deemed as ‘basic’ nowadays would be classed as ‘luxury’ when I last bought a car nearly 11 years ago. Wow! What a comfy and peppy little car is this new one! At one point it beeped at me. ‘Why did it do that?’ I said, because it somewhat startled me. ‘It’s fitted with a TSS system,’ said Sam. ‘It warns you if other vehicles are too close. It will also warn you if you leave a lane without indicating, if you approach hazards. All sorts of road and driver safety stuff. You’ve also got a speed limiter and cruise control.’
I gave this some thought. ‘That could be quite annoying,’ I said, because I’ve always found my eyes and ears are quite good at alerting me to driving hazards and they never make me jump like something beeping at me. ‘You can turn it off,’ said Sam.
Back at the dealership, I looked in the car boot which was small but I’m not in the habit of toting around golf clubs. (Small ‘in joke’ there for Andy!) I was pleased to see it had a space saver spare wheel and not a puncture repair kit. And we returned to the showroom to do paperwork and part with cash.
I didn’t get quite as much for part-exchange of my old car as I’d hoped, but it wasn’t bad and I couldn’t be doing with toting it around used car dealers and engaging in banter with car dealers, nor with the fact they’d probably kick the tyres and do a lot of teeth sucking and tutting. Sam could tell I was a little disappointed so he said I’d get a full tank of petrol in the new car (which, given my mileage, will likely last until Christmas) and he’d have a new set of my private number plates made up and attached ready for when I collect the car. I was pleased about this because the old ones were looking a bit brittle when Andy took them off my old car and I didn’t hold out much hope for them being reattached to the new car without shattering.
Sam gamely tried to sell me ‘extras’ like car mats, boot liner, ceramic paint covering, new-for-old accident insurance, bumps ‘n’ scrapes paintwork repair, and, bizarrely, a chrome ‘flashtrim’ down the sides of the car saying ‘Aygo’ which is the model of Toyota I’ve bought. For a brief moment I thought he’d mistaken me for a boy racer, and in that brief moment he realised he was never going to sell a chrome flashtrim to a middle aged woman, so, mercifully he gave up the sales pitch and my mission was accomplished!
This morning I received in the post the revised logbook for my old car, plus the retention certificate for my private number plate. Tomorrow I’m back to see Sam to complete the rest of the paperwork and then I shall hopefully be collecting my new red Toyota Aygo X-Trend next Thursday! It looks nothing like this but this conveys the spirit of the occasion…
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KJ