Bought a car in Spanish, I don’t speak Spanish

Bought a car in Spanish, in England, in the dark, during a thunder and lightening storm. What could possibly go wrong?


An adventure ensued.

Remember those feathers to line the nest we spoke about recently?

Well, I found a home for them.

My faithful little car started making horrid noises so off to the mechanic it went.

I always buy disposable cars expecting them to last a few months but they end up lasting a couple of years and I grow a little emotionally attached to their wellbeing.

The mechanic said:

“I’m so sorry, Luv, but your car’s gonna cost about a grand (£1000) to start fixing it, are you emotionally attached to it?  Do you need some time to consider the options? We could send it to the specialist if you reeeaaaalllllllly want us to”.

I turned to the internet to seek out a new vehicle, on the hoof, for less than the feathers I had in the bank.

Et Voila!

Thus I found myself, in the next town over, amidst the flooding of many local roads, in the rain, in the twilight, speaking Spanish to a Romanian bloke (he spent 20 years in Spain, it wasn’t a random language choice) about the little car we saw in front of us, as you do.

MOT’d the day previously.  67,000 on the clock with previous MOTs to verify, same age as my car (roughly), less finesse than my current car, but it goes, there are no warning lights, it handles ok, there are no squeaks and noises, it has 5 doors (the seat flippers on my 3 door car broke so guests have to be nimble and clamber through, 5 little doors is an improvement).

Documents were verified, drives were tested and money changed hands.

What could possibly go wrong?

Author: Pollyanna Whyte

Single LDS Mormon Mum/Mom living in England. This is my blog on emotional health, fun, parenting, life, divorce, starting over, friends, family, church things, and budgeting. Stop by, tell us what you think, feel free to share (but credit the source please).

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