The Quest for a New Car

It has always baffled me that back in Catalonia people thought the price they paid for their cars would still be obtainable many years later. The fact that no one ever looked after their vehicles added to the weirdness of their perceived value.
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I mean often these cars would look like the annual bull-run had taken place over them, wing mirrors were considered a luxury and often one just hanging down was clearly viewed as a selling point. The same car could be seen parading around with the for sale sign and over inflated price stuck in the back window for years. I fear often passed down to the next generation who had the same viewpoint in that their cars like their wine would increase in value through time.
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It is not quite as bad as that down here in Spain but still can be amusing. Take for instance a car I looked at the other day. The advert boasted that it was well maintained and immaculate in and out. On arrival I could only assume he meant his other car as this one did not match those bold claims.
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True the one hub cap that remained on the vehicle did look kind of clean, which prompted me to ask if the other ones were inside the house and being cleaned as we wait.
The immaculate inside fared no better, it looked like flock of pigeons had used it as a holiday home for several months, and then had employed a troop of untrained baboons to tidy it up.
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“It’s got seat belts” he said, in a voice that was I think hit by the realisation that his previous well scripted description was now failing him. I pointed out that I could see one of them pocking out of the top of a Mcdonald container, the pigeons clearly ate out a lot.
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Further inspection revealed the wing was really just a memory and the exhaust was held together by wire. I did offer a compliment at this point as it had already dawned on him that it was not going to be sold to me at any cost. I said, “Well done on being able to use so much wire and yet still make it look like it came with the original exhaust system”
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The words “well if you don’t want it” were uttered and there was an awkward silence while I waited for him to finish the sentence with maybe you should take a look at the real car I am selling, but the wait was in vain.
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Before departing I informed him that not only did I not want it but I feared for the safety of other vehicles nearby because there must be a risk of contamination.
No moral to the tale but be cautious when employing troops of untrained baboons to clean your car.
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Andy

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