The Expatriate Episode 5: Auctions Speak Louder Than Words

Wapi didn't mind if he never saw another bus for the rest of his life. In fact he was fed up with the entire public transport system. It had been bad enough in the summer months, waiting for ages for a bus to come along and eventually having a choice of three at the same time. Worse yet was being stuck in underground traffic jams on the tube. He would have bought himself a car months ago had his ex-girlfriend Florence not taken him to the cleaners for the best part of a grand a while back.

Anyway, here he was now at the motor auctions with a freshly saved grand to spend. Ever since he'd decided to buy, Wapi had been inundated with advice, mostly unsolicited, as to what make and model to buy. MPH, MPG, GTI etc. All this information rained down on him in an almost undecipherable mass. Even his cousin Tola who didn't actually own a car, in fact couldn't even drive one, felt qualified to offer his opinion.

The warehouse where the auction was held was not enclosed but after a while Wapi became dizzy from the exhaust fumes of the hundreds of cars going under the hammer. He looked at his watch and frowned. Glenroy was over an hour late. As usual. He who'd said, "You'd better not buy anything at the auctions without an expert," had not bothered to show up. At least not yet.

The last of the expensive or quality cars were now passing under the hammer and the auctioneer was approaching the vehicles more likely to fall within Wapi's price bracket. He determined that he was going to buy something tonight, with or without his "expert." After all, he had the information on which cars were more economical in terms of fuel consumption, insurance, and spare parts. More to the point, he wasn't going to rely on public transport a day longer. "Otutu de waya," he said out loud recalling the many freezing nights he'd spent waiting for seemingly non existent night buses, the cold overwhelming his extremities. In those situations he'd asked the age old question of many an African migrant, "What am I doing in this cold cold country?" On such occasions even after reaching the warmth of his home it still took him the best part of an hour to thaw out. Yes, he decided. He was definiely going to buy a car.

Wapi went over the list of sensible buys in his head. Basically anything British was going to be good for second hand spares and insurance. As he waited for one such example to come through, he noticed a crowd of people rush to surround a car in the line. Out of curiousity Wapi wandered over and discovered it was a silver grey BMW 525 causing the excitement. He looked over the car thinking it was out of his price range this time around. "Monkey wan box bot im 'an short." Coming up behind the BMW in line were two Ford escorts and a Vauxhall so Wapi returned to his place and prepared to bid.

Theauctioneer's voice rang out, "1983 BMW 525, 5 months tax, 1 months MOT, excellent motor car, where will you start the bidding? 600 pounds?" No response. "Come on you lot. That is alotta motor car, someone help me out." A guy with a mobile phone shouted, "450." From there the bids quickly went to 550, 650, then hesitantly to 750 pounds. The bidding dried up again. The auctioneer, doing his best to sell cars in a recession tried to boost the bidding by accepting 10 opund increments. The bids went up to 790 and then stopped again. "790 pounds going once, going twice... Wapi could contain himself no longer. He couldn't believe that no one else was interested at that price. He could buy the car within budget and still have 200 quid left over for servicing and minor repairs.

He shot his arm up to get the auctioneers attention before it was too late. The auctioneer said, "800 pounds going once, going twice, 800 pounds, going, going, gone! Provisionally sold to the coloured bloke on my left." Wapi made his way over to the counter to sign and pay his deposit. He wondered what was meant by "provisionally" sold. As he waited in line he felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard a familiar voice, "Yo!" It was Glenroy and though he offered no hint of apology he was able to explain that provisionally sold meant that the winning bid had not met the minimum reserve price set by the seller. The auctioneers would have to get the sellers acceptance for the transaction to be completed. Wapi would have to leave his deposit, and then check in the next day to see whether his bid was accepted.

Glenroy accompanied him to the auctioneers lot where the BMW would spend the night. After looking the car over thoroughly, he surfaced with a concerned look on his face. "I told you to stick with British motors man." "Yes, but a BM at this price is irresistible," was Wapi's retort. "Well you'd better hope your bid is rejected man, otherwise you're stuck with a whole heap of trouble." Underneath the cars shiny exterior Glenroy had discovered a quantity of rust that would never pass an MOT. That was why such a spanking looking beemer was going so cheap. A voice came over the tannoy, "Mr Johnson, you have bought the BMW." "Well there's no way you can back out now. You might as well go pay the balance," Wapi sloped off to comply, feeling utterly dejected. Glenroy told him that it would be ok. They'd leave the car overnight and come to collect it the next day after insuring it. They would then sell it as soon as possible. After all, a beemer looking like that would tempt many guys into a rash purchase.

The following morning, after a virtually sleepless night of wondering how much this escapade was going to cost him, Wapi waited for Glenroy to pick him up from home. They went to the insurance brokers where the quote was almost exactly the amount of money Wapi had left. At this rate he thought, he'd hardly have enough dosh left to put fuel in his car. He'd likely be dependent on public transport for a while yet. It was with total resignation to his predicament that Wapi paid the insurance broker then went with Glenroy to collect his attractive, high tech lump of rust.

Having collected the keys and located the car, Glenroy piloted it out of the crowded parking lot, to the gate. There he handed over to Wapi and then walked toward his own car. Being unfamiliar with the route, Wapi was to follow Glenroy home. The traffic was heavy on the main road and they waited ages for a suitable gap to open up. Suddenly Glenroy's tyres screeched as he pulled out very quickly. Not wanting to get left behind, Wapi followed suit without looking, trying to stay on his tail. There was an almighty screech of brakes followed by the crunching of metal on metal. Wapi felt his car being dragged several yards down the road and was powerless to prevent or stop it. When it came to a stop he emerged from the car shaking vigorously, as Glenroy ran back to see whether he was ok. Wapi saw that his accident had been with one of the very creatures he'd been trying to avoid, a double decker London bus. The driver jumped down from his cabin and asked him, "You alright mate?" His face was full of concern. "My car...my car..." was all Wapi could muster in reply. "I'm sorry mate," the driver said, "It was all my fault. Don't worry though, our insurance will pay for everything."



Glossary:

Otutu de Waya: It's extremely cold and windy.

Monkey wan box bot im an short: Monkeys can't be boxers because their arms are too short, meaning one doesn't have the tools/equipment necessary to do what one wants to. Alternatively, one has bitten off more than one can chew.

Tube: London ungerground or subway trains

Exhaust Fumes: What comes out of your exhaust pipe (Tailpipe to my north American friends)

MOT: Ministry of Transport Test required to certify roadworthy all cars older than 3 years in the UK. Along with road tax and insurance, the bane of the young male driver in the UK.

Dosh: Money