We knew we would eventually need a second car, even after my Corolla arrives and is legally converted to British standards (headlights and mandatory fog lights etc), so we decided to try to save ourselves a little moolah and buy a cheap, get-you-from-here-to-there kind of car. No specific requirements, except that we were hoping to be able to use said beater car to haul the tandem bicycle from here to there, if need be, and we weren't willing to pay much for it.
We looked at cars on base--sold by military people to military people, usually upon the occasion of leaving the country. They tend to be inexpensive, as their owners must be rid of them quickly before they PCS out of the base. We saw a few that met our criteria, but two or three of them had already left the country with no forwarding information--not helpful. We were running out of time on our rental agreement and would have to either renew or return the car, so yesterday--on the day the rental car was due--we took a last-ditch drive around the villages which surround the base, hoping to see cars on the side of the road for sale.
This was wildly successful--we saw numerous cars and called numerous owners, deciding that--barring any red flags--we would buy the car we could resonably purchase the fastest. We reached a human being when we called the owner of a dark green Volvo hatchback and prompty met him for brief test drive. The owner was kind enough to recognize the pouring rain, and chilly weather; he had the car running and all heated up in anticipation of our arrival. Travis liked the handling, I liked the color, and--voila!--we decided we had to have it. At only 695 pounds it was within our budget and has plenty of room in the back for Lego to ride in style.
The only problem was payment. How were we supposed to pay this gentleman 695 pounds, since only very few British ATMs will accept an American card and those that do will only give so much at one time, not to mention the limit set by our bank on withdrawls from ATMs? We may have looked shady, but we drove in the rain, from ATM to ATM, collecting as much as we could on each of our cards until we had the money (in small denominations--we surely looked like drug dealers) and returned to our Volvo.
The owner handed us the keys and paperwork; we handed him a wad of cash, and he was off. We thought ourselves so lucky--we still had half an hour before the rental was due and it was only just around the block! We'd saved ourselves the hassle and expense of renting the car for another week--how savvy and smart we are!!
We realized only after the new car wouldn't start--still in the pouring rain--that the previous owner was perhaps not only being thoughtful when he uh, warmed up the car for us. The battery (and perhaps the alternator/starting mechanism/engine) was shot. Not even a rumble--dead as a doornail. A kind van-driving motorist jumpstarted the Volvo and we dropped off the rental, feeling rather ill.
Ten minutes into the drive back to base, we realized there was no fuel in our new little gem--below "E." Knowing we could get petrol on base, we wanted to get only a small amount off base. Shortly after finding the local station and buying one liter of regular unleaded (it's 3 times more expensive off base than on--we get a greatly reduced rate), we were again headed towards the base when it occured to us that we had forgotten the Garmin Nuvi in our rental car's glovebox. Still pouring, pouring, pouring rain.
We drove onto the base after a long ordeal getting the Nuvi back--hungry, crabby, and feeling like gullible, stupid Americans. We had just bought the worst lemon in the history of the world. It was probably a stolen vehicle, being pawned off to us for drug money. We discussed how little information we had about the seller. How we'd paid in cash. How the car would probably shudder to a stop at any given moment, at which point, the local police would arrest us for car theft and we wouldn't have a leg to stand on.
When we rolled into the base auto shop, it was 10 minutes before they closed for the day, and they wouldn't look at it. We sighed and headed home, defeated and foolish.
This morning, we crossed our fingers and hoped she would start. Holding our breath, Travis turned the key. VROOM! She roared to life!! Hallelujah! We drove her to the auto shop across base, waiting for her to die at any moment. She somehow made it the 5-6 blocks, and the auto folks took a look at her. After an hour or two of diagnostic testing (during which we ate a DELICIOUS meal of caprise salad, filled pasta from Germany, toasted bread dipped in balsalmic and olive oil, and olives shipped directly from Italy filled with soft cheese) the mechanics announced that there was nothing wrong with the Volvo except the battery--they charged it up and tested it (perfectly fine, only needed the charge) and the whole thing cost us 5 bucks. Whew! The car is worth twice what we paid for it, according to the mechanics and online surveys.
We are geniuses after all!! We are so savvy and smart!
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