Buying a legal second-hand car can take you on a perilous ride

22 Feb 2023

From disinterested sellers who never get back to you to scammers who sell written-off cars as bargains not to be missed, finding the right used vehicle on a limited budget is trying.

My modest little Chevy Spark, whose name was Princess, was written off at the end of last year after roving bandits in Limpopo’s rural Vhembe district tried to steal it. They inflicted so much damage — smashed windows, dented doors and an almost total removal of the dashboard — that the repair cost was higher than the insurer was prepared to pay.

I took the money; the car was old. I would have got less if I’d traded it in. Now the hunt was on for a reliable second-hand car for around about R85,000.

It must be said upfront that I am not that inexperienced in matters of cars. I’ve owned two Renault 5s (one crashed by a boyfriend), two Citi Golfs (stolen from the Jozi streets), one Golf GT (robbed from me at gunpoint), an Uno, a VW Jetta, a 1976 Australian Ford Fairlane, an ancient Black BMW with faux Dalmatian skin seat covers, a Toyota Condor, an old farm bakkie made up of many different even older farm bakkies, a Corsa bakkie and the Chevy Spark.

In present-day Limpopo, it’s perfectly possible to buy an unroadworthy car on the side of the road, next to the hair salon, the car wash and the sheep for sale, voetstoots for under R50k. But I was after a more elegant experience.

I tried several second-hand dealers in Tzaneen, which is not exactly small-car country — more bakkies and farm vehicles. The first number I called was for someone who sold used tractors. I then called Werner from Trio Motors.

“We sold all our cheap cars in December,” he said cheerfully, “but we have them coming in all the time. I’ll be in touch soon.” I’m still waiting.

Stirling from another trader could offer me a Hyundai Atos immediately. I don’t know why I took it for a test drive, since it had an 1100 engine and was like driving a hairdryer. He also had a used Ford, except there was just one problem: the orange engine warning light was on. “It could mean anything,” Stirling said.

I went online. My Facebook algorithms got super excited and it was interesting to see what started to appear on my feed. Aaah, local Marketplace — cars in my hood for that price.

Enock had a Nissan, Moses had a Tazz, Molosho had a Figo, Peter had a Corolla. Peter from Mankweng messaged to say he had a wide variety of used VW Golfs and Polos with an equally wide range of number plates from all around the country. “Come and see, we can talk.”

Maybe getting a car from a woman is more sensible, I thought. Pay it forward; help a rural sister. Yolanda from Nkowankowa had a Polo Vivo that matched my price, so we made contact. But she seemed to sleep all day and only be available at night. “Are you free now?” she messaged me one Friday night around 10pm. Er, no, not exactly.

Alexina from Ga-Mokgwathi near Modjadji had a Honda Jazz that seemed perfect. She stood me up. “I’m having a problem,” she said. “I’m still at the hairdresser.”

But I’ve always liked the Honda Jazz and so I ended up getting a lift to Ga-Mokgwathi only to find the car a less glossy version of its picture. It wasn’t roadworthy — a broken rearview mirror, no spare tyre and a cracked headlight. It would cost another R10k to get it fixed up. Ciao ciao, Alexina.

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Then, oh my nerves, I came upon the car of my dreams on a Facebook bank-repossessed cars page: a Hyundai Tucson 2020 model for around R87,000, one previous owner, low mileage, excellent condition, perfect price. Nic answered swiftly. Yes, the car was still available, he said. And he was happy to negotiate. You can drop your price? I asked. Talk to my boss, he said.

So I spoke to Diederick, an Afrikaans-sounding guy who said hang on, let me talk to the accountant. Amazingly, the accountant, Diederick and Nic all said they could drop the price, no problem, but the car of my dreams was going on auction the next day. I had to decide and pay that afternoon.

Mmmm. Nic kept calling me back. PV Auctioneers would deliver the car to Tzaneen, he said, for a few thousand extra and a full tank of petrol. Would I prefer it to be driven or sent on a tow truck? He sent an invoice via WhatsApp from PV Auctioneers asking for 50% upfront.

The company registration number on the invoice was defunct. The email was a mailbox address; the website link failed.

I checked the real PV Auctioneers website. There was no auction until the following week. Unscrupulous people were posing as the auction house, and it’s illegal to sell a bank-repossessed car. I called Nic back and pointed this out. Oh dear, he said, and hung up.

I decided to take it to the city. After all, Jozi and Pretoria probably have the biggest selection of second-hand cars in the country. We Buy Cars, My Cars, Weelee, Auto Trader — there are so many places you can trawl online and they’ll send alerts.

I decided to hone in and do a rigorous selection. I set my heart on a Suzuki SX4.

DM Motors in Rosettenville had one at the right price. See you tomorrow, I messaged Thandi. Lots of thumbs-up. Then the next morning she said they’d sold the car but had something similar, so I took a ferocious girlfriend (she can strip an engine and no one f**ks with her) and we went south where we met Thandi and Success.

They were very charming, but the car I had in mind had morphed into an old red one with disagreeable racing stripes. The bonnet was a different red to the rest of the car body. Plainly it had been in an accident. No thanks.

Then the boss, Mr Francis, a charming Nigerian, said he did actually have something suitable. A Suzuki Vitara with a suspiciously low mileage for its year, but a good deal, in the right price range. I took it for a test drive and really liked it.

We asked to look at the paperwork, but alas, the registration certificate said it was a Code 3 car. Which basically means it was written off and rebuilt. No insurance company will insure a Code 3 car. Police clearance? Oh, don’t worry about that, said Mr Francis, you have my word.

On the way back from the south we passed Flawless Cars, turned in on a whim and there it had a Hyundai i30 in good nick with leather seats and a loved-by-one-owner feeling. Katlego and Cyril were friendly and helpful. Katlego, who incidentally used to work for Mr Francis — “he’s a good man, he’s also a pastor” — let us take it for a test drive around the block.

I nearly bought it right there and then. But then I got a message from Christa from Capital Auto World. My next dream car for the right price with only one previous owner and a full service history was awaiting me in Midrand. I dashed there on Monday morning. It was the right car, absolutely. A Suzuki SX4. There was just one small snag — a R9k “on the road fee”. I thought I would cry.

An on-the-road fee is a controversial one. Also known as a dealership fee or service and delivery fee, it’s added for extras such as pre-delivery checks‚ valets and admin, including change of ownership, licence plates and so on.

You could do it all yourself, said Auto World, but that would entail a series of about 10 different bureaucratic stops, from a roadworthy centre to a traffic department. In the end, I coughed up.

I drove happily into the chaotic afternoon traffic, with a light shower of rain and all the lights out owing to rolling balckouts.

Anyone know where I can get one of those bumper stickers that says “My other car is a Porsche”? DM168

This story first appeared in our weekly Daily Maverick 168 newspaper, which is available countrywide for R25.

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