May 5, 2019
I went to see a car today. I’ve been making do with public transport but I’ll need a car when I renovate this house. They don’t let you take ladders or slabs of plasterboard on municipal buses here, which is unkind.
I’m going to buy a secondhand hatchback, something with a few dings that can take being rammed into the kerb or driven against a power pole.
I drive when I’m in New Zealand and drove whenever I visited my aunt in Scotland but I haven’t owned a vehicle since 1985.
The car I saw today is a peppy thing with 100,000km on the clock. The woman selling it is pregnant and moving out of Sydney. She wants $7000 and says the price is not negotiable since she’s already reduced it dramatically.
I called my mother after viewing the car and told her that I’ll get it checked by a mechanic tomorrow.
‘I hope you’re not going to pay full price,’ she said.
I explained that the price had already been slashed. ‘She’s pregnant,’ I added.
Mum went quiet for a moment. ‘Don’t be a fool. Offer her five and a half.’
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