Recently, I traded in my old car for a number of reasons. I couldn’t afford a brand spanking new car - if I had, my purchasing experience would have been totally different – the sale probably encouraged by a coffee, offered by a smart salesman rubbing his hands together with glee at the thought of his commission.

Whilst browsing shiny new models, a comfortable chair would be offered to drink said coffee in, and a bunch of flowers might end up in the boot at the delivery stage. Oh no, mine was the ‘pre-loved’, ‘nearly new’, ‘second-hand’ variety.

Buyer be aware

To all would-be purchasers of second-hand cars, be aware. Do you have any idea how many cars are for sale out there? Thousands. Where do they all come from, for heaven’s sake? It took some searching to find the one in the right price range that hadn’t been off-road at 100 kilometres an hour or with a huge mileage.

So, I found the car that fitted the bill. We had cruised a section of the N125 in the Algarve, looking at various models, watched over by seemingly disinterested salesmen, and I swear most had no interest until we tried to look inside, which is maybe the trigger for a likely sale. Anyway, I agonised over a couple, and, as I do with clothes, probably went back to the first one I had seen.

The nightmare begins

The first problem was that the man selling the car spoke no English, and unfortunately, I don’t speak much Portuguese (yes, I know), but we got ourselves understood, and he insisted I had to register it myself at the Conservatória do Registo Automóvel in Albufeira. Instructions were given, and it took some time, with fractured English and Portuguese on both sides, about which button to press on the machine to get the right ticket, and so forth, when we got there. What he didn’t say was that the Conservatória was in the same building as the Law Courts, which strangely has no signage outside to tell you where it is.

Credits: Pexels; Author: Tom Fisk;

Second, the problem was making the mistake of misreading the IPO expiry date, thinking it was the 1st August 2026, when in fact it was 8th January 2026 and therefore worthless. I had the keys in my hand and an IPO document fluttering in the wind when the penny dropped about the mistake, and I also realised later that the seller hadn’t corrected us. Ohhh… don’t tell me a car salesman would make that sort of error – he has handled more car sales than I have hot dinners. Keys were handed back, and a promise of a valid certificate was given, but another day was wasted when it failed, and another when the repairs were done. Alarm bells should have been ringing when he had to jump-start the car for the test drive!

My first drive

Anyway, I finally took delivery of the car, and the following day was up at the crack of dawn, looking forward to my first real drive in it. Needless to say, it never moved off the drive because the battery was dead, so a somewhat irritated me phoned the seller and was promised a replacement battery at 2.00pm.

He arrived, sure enough, with a battery too small, so back he went, and another hour later returned with one the right size, but managed to drop one of the securing struts into the bowels of the car in the fitting process, so another delay ensued as he tried to locate and retrieve it. This man unbelievably had only two spanners as tools. I provided others – a hammer, a flashlight, a bit of wire to make a hook to fish out the elusive strut with, and a knife to cut off a surplus bit of plastic.

I am not saying this man was a rogue, and not all car purchases are like this, and I am not going to name names or give directions on who to avoid, so just be aware. There are cars out there with hidden histories, so have your chosen one checked before handing over your hard-earned cash.