HOW I ENDED UP IN A PADDY WAGON

It’s been a few months since the big move from Canada to Ireland and I’ll start my first blog post off by assuring you all back home that I’m alive, well and getting on quite good. It was my intent to start this blog ages ago and even though my intentions were good, life simply got in the way of me actually sitting down, committing myself and getting over the hurdle of setting the bloody thing up and just doing it. And now, with a bit of inspiration fueling me, I’m finally getting this blog off the ground.

You can imagine that a lot has happened over the past few months; I promise to fill you in on all the gory details in due time. But for now I’ll share the experience of purchasing my first car in Ireland.

If you currently or have ever owned your own vehicle you know the feeling of pride and independence that comes with said vehicle despite the make, model, age or condition. My first car was a 1987 Honda Civic CRX (the two-door, hatchback, sport model). It was two-tone red and grey and even though it was a flaming piece of shit; it was MY flaming piece of shit and the miles it covered broke records among many kids my age. I drove it from the Canadian Atlantic to Pacific coast and back. I got my first speeding ticket. It broke down. I fixed it. “Rosie” and I (that’s what we called her – a clever nickname my sister came up with) had many good years together but alas; she met her demise when I moved to Calgary in 2003. I’ve owned several vehicles since Rosie but my first car will always hold a special place in my heart. And now, 20 years after my first car purchase I found myself on the dawn of yet another first – my first Irish car purchase.

Before even arriving in Ireland I did my homework. I started browsing vehicles online from Canada. I was advised that donedeal.ie was the best place to start (very similar to kijiji.ca in Canada). The first problem was that I was searching for an Irish car with a Canadian mindset. Let me explain. My Canadian friends will know that back home it’s not that uncommon to drive a truck or large SUV. In fact, in Alberta I’m sure that at least half (if not more) of registered vehicles are one or the other. Hell, the last vehicle I owned in Canada was a 2006 Jeep Commander (the Limited model with the big 5.7 Litre V8 Hemi engine). Not that big of deal in Canada really. “Jaysus, lad!” My Irish friends would say. “You’d be paying through the feckin’ nose to tax that rig over here!”, and they would be right. What I didn’t realise is that in Ireland vehicles are taxed based on the size of their engine. For example, a 1.9 litre diesel engine over here would cost you almost €700/year to tax (that doesn’t include insurance). Well, you could imagine what my Jeep would cost. So, after casting the net wide for my search in Ireland I realized that “less was more” over here (the less the engine size, the more money I was going to save) and narrowed the search to something much smaller by North American standards.

After much donedeal.ie searching, Edel and I narrowed it down to a handful of cars that we decided we would test drive. The first few didn’t leave much to be desired but next on the list was a 2002 VW Passat 1.9 litre diesel. The specs checked out on paper and it looked pretty decent in the photos so we figured we take her for a spin. This time we took Edel’s brother-in-law, Michael, along with us (he’s a great man for cars and is very mechanically inclined).

I made arrangements to meet the seller in the parking lot of a hotel in Cork City that we were both familiar with. Michael and I greeted the fellow (who looked like a fine, upstanding gentleman by the way) and we gave the car a good once over (popped the hood, started her up, crawled under to look for leaks, etc.). Other than being a bit dirty inside it seemed good to go so we took her for a spin. She had some good pep and seemed to handle quite well so I figured I’d make the guy an offer.

He wanted THIS much; we offered him THAT much (slightly lower as you do). He wasn’t having it. He said that he had the car scheduled for its annual NCT test (similar to the road safety test some provinces do in Canada) this upcoming weekend and that if it passed (and he couldn’t see why it wouldn’t) he’d be upping the price quite a bit. But, if we were to buy it before the test he’d take his first price and hey… we could even keep the NCT appointment, which he already paid €55 for, and we’d still be getting a good deal. After a bit more back and forth we came to terms on a price and the deal was done. The guy called a friend to come collect him, he passed us the keys and registration book and he was off with a promise to email me the NCT appointment details and post me the spare set of keys he had at home. Great! “What a nice guy”, I thought to myself.

Michael and I drove the car back to his place that night with plans to do a bit of general maintenance on it the following day. By the time Michael got home from work I had detailed the interior and polished the exterior as well. She looked as if she had rolled off the production line. (Those of you that know me well know how particular I am about cleaning my cars; this was no exception.) And now for the maintenance. We lifted the hood and got straight to work.

We changed the oil and all the filters (fuel, air, cabin air and oil). Everything went off without a hitch until we got to the fuel filter. We took out the old one, emptied the remaining fuel into a pan and what we discovered certainly set the stage for the whole Irish car purchase experience. It was full of green diesel! Agricultural fuel! Like in Canada, there is a serious fine for filling a non-agricultural vehicle with agricultural fuel and I was assured that if we would’ve gotten caught I’d be on the hook for a lot more than the car was even worth. Michael and I nervously chuckled and considered ourselves lucky we didn’t get pulled over on the drive home the night before.

With the car maintenance done she was ready for the NCT test. I figured I’d give the seller a call since I hadn’t received an email with the appointment details. He answered, “Jaysus. Sorry John” he said, “I’m just at work right now. I’ll email you the details just as soon as I get home.” Excellent. The work day had come and gone and still no email. Bastard. Being proactive about it I called the NCT to confirm the appointment myself only to discover that the car actually never was booked for an appointment. “You must be mistaken”, I exclaimed to the NCT Rep. “The guy I just bought it off assured me it was.” They very strongly assured me that it wasn’t. I couldn’t believe it. Why the hell would the guy say it actually was when it wasn’t?! Perhaps it was my polite Canadian naivety that had me baffled? No one would have the balls in Canada to pull a stunt like that; certainly not if I had their full name and phone number. And they certainly wouldn’t have answered the bloody phone the following day and lied again. I booked the car in myself, paid the €55 and Michael and I laughed once more (him a little harder than myself this time).

In Ireland the driver seat is positioned on the right-hand side of the car; opposite to Canada and pretty much everywhere else in North America. Other than that one of the main differences I’ve noticed is that the vehicle’s registration, insurance and tax papers are summarized and clearly displayed on the windshield of the vehicle (“windscreen” as they call it over here). I suppose it makes it easier for a police officer when they pull a car over. Fair enough. With the NCT test booked I figured I should pull out the summary paper on the windshield (windscreen) of the car to make room for the new one I’d receive after the car passed the test. Reaching in to pull it out of its plastic sleeve I found that it was actually a forged document that the guy had printed off the internet. Haha. Unbelievable. I shouldn’t have been surprised at this stage but again I was a bit taken aback. This REALLY had Michael laughing and me not so much anymore. “What next?!” I thought.

Thankfully the car passed the test with flying colours and has been driving very well since *knocks on wood*. My first Irish car purchase certainly was an experience. “Welcome to Ireland!” Michael laughed in such a way that lead me to believe this wasn’t that unusual at all in this country. Despite the sketchy circumstances surrounding the purchase we did end up with a pretty decent car. And just in case you were wondering, I never did get that spare set of keys in the mail. Surprise, surprise.

What do you think?

Irish folks – have you encountered anything like this when purchasing a car?

Canadians – am I right? Are we really that honest and too polite to pull such antics?

Let me know your thoughts below.