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GOING, GOING: BUYING A CAR AT AUCTION

With prices tumbling, auctions are where the action is. Paul Markillie picks up some tricks from the pros ...

From INTELLIGENT LIFE Magazine, Spring 2009

For one day in 1978, this was the scene of a famous Bob Dylan concert. But the vast expanse of Blackbushe aerodrome, Surrey, is also home to British Car Auctions. It’s cold and wet, and I’ve arrived early to take my time walking through a sea of more than 700 cars, all nicely washed and parked in long lines nose to tail. I’ve also followed the advice of experts and attended previous sales to watch and learn. And now I’m ready to buy. 

The mission is to find a family vehicle with six seats to replace an ageing Toyota Previa with intergalactic mileage. In view of the credit crunch, the idea is to buy used and to cut out the middle-man by going to a car auction. My previous visits have confirmed that, by and large, auction prices can be quite a bit lower. Many of the vehicles are two or three years old with one previous owner. These cars have either just come off lease from one of the big finance firms, who insist on regular servicing, or have been taken in as trade-ins by the big dealer groups. Some are from smaller garages or are privately owned.

As a wholesale market this is the natural haunt of car dealers, although the public can turn up and bid too. A family standing in front of me in the queue for a catalogue confess to being novices. “Anyone else here for the first time?” asks the receptionist before running through the procedure. I listen in too—just in case. “And remember ‘sold as seen’ means just that,” she concludes. That’s the scary bit: no test drives, no opening the bonnet and checking the oil. And you can’t even sit in the driver’s seat.

So how do you avoid a banger? Some of the vehicles may have a bit of a guarantee, like a warranted mileage. A service history could also be available. But I’ve concluded that the surest thing is to act like a car dealer. A hundred years ago they would have traded horses. And like horse dealers, they have developed a keen eye for what makes a good, reliable and saleable form of personal transportation. They also have a few tricks up their sleeve.

I join them walking the lines. Dealers have a knack of evaluating a car by walking around it and peering inside. They know what to look for. Alloy wheels badly scuffed from careless parking and bits of trim missing or damaged indicate a tough previous life. The dealers are not taken in by smart-looking tyres and unmarked carpets. Just as horse traders paint oil on hooves to improve the look of the equine leg, dealers paint tyres. And they always throw out scruffy mats to reveal untrodden carpet below.

I find the cars I’ve circled in the catalogue. Some look good, and a blue one in particular takes my eye. I retire to the cafeteria for coffee and market research. It’s always advisable to set yourself a bidding limit. A copy of Auto Trader helps, as does a text-message service offered by “Glass’s Guide”, the bible of the motor trade. Text the registration number and mileage and back come the trade-in and retail values. It costs £1.50 a time plus network charges. I also need to work out where to go. There are three auction halls at Blackbushe and most cars are sold in under a minute after being driven up to the rostrum.

I take a seat in the first hall, just to get tuned in. Auctioneers take bids quickly and talk even faster. It takes some getting used to. Screens that display the bidding help, as do the lot numbers which are going under the hammer in the other halls.

As the first lot I am interested in gets closer I join the dealers, who don’t sit down but mill around outside the entrance to the auction halls. There it is possible to hear if the engine is running properly and possibly detect other faults. The dealers follow cars that take their interest into the hall and bid from the floor.

A Ford Galaxy which I had seen earlier joins the queue, its diesel engine ticking over nicely. It’s a 2005 model with under 24,000 miles on the clock. This would do, I suppose. But there’s no time to procrastinate; it’s gone at £6,600. The silver Chrysler Voyager is almost five years old, but it’s too American for me. Gone at £4,350. I pass on the Volkswagen Touran because a three-year-old Volvo XC90 looks better and is classier. But could the local garage service it? Gone at £8,100. I simply couldn’t bring myself to bid for the Vauxhall Zafira, even though it looked and ran perfectly. The TV ads for this car are horrible.

The family I saw earlier go for a 2005 Vauxhall Astra diesel, which mum bags for £3,000 to the delight of her daughter. And so it goes. A 2007 Toyota Corolla Verso diesel has just 12,000 previous miles and enough seats for the children—but not all the stuff they take with them. It drives off at £7,850. A couple of Mitsubishi Shoguns pass through (Land Rovers are better) and then that nice blue car arrives.

The adrenaline is building. I’m nervous. I double-check my notes. “Glass’s” reckons a 2001 Porsche Boxster 3.2 S roadster trades in at £10,351 in top condition, a little over £8,000 if below average. It would retail at just over £13,000. It’s a fantastic sports car which might top 160mph. I took one around a test track once. They are well built, reliable and a new one would be almost £40,000. Mileage is fine, service record good, but five previous owners is a worry. I had written down £8,600 max, which with the buyer’s premium of about 3% would keep it under £9,000.

They’re off at £8,000. “Eight two, eight three,” rattles the auctioneer. Bids seem to be coming from everywhere, but I go for it with a wave of the catalogue. “Eight five.” For a millisecond it’s mine. “Eight six,” says the auctioneer looking to my right. Soon it’s between two young men, one seated at the back and another standing near the exit with the strands from an iPod dangling from under his woollen hat. These guys are determined and it’s up to £9,000 already. “Nine five,” says the auctioneer. The iPod man nods it up. “Selling at nine six,” says the auctioneer. The man at the back goes for it. “Nine seven,” says the auctioneer. The iPod man turns dejectedly and the hammer falls. The young guy behind me walks to the podium. They will want 10% immediately and the balance in 24 hours. I hope he enjoys it. At least he saved me from finding a tricky explanation on my return home. 

OTHER DISTRACTIONS

Audi A3 Sportback 2.0 Tdi September 2005 with 97,955 miles on the clock. Only one owner. New: £20,835. Sold for £5,900.
 

Mercedes C180 1.8 Elegance July 2008, 6,281 miles. Solid German engineering. New: £24,052. Sold for £17,000.
 

MG TF 1.8 VVC Roadster September 2003, 49,445 miles. A cheap mid-engined sports car. New: £16,055. Sold for £3,000.
 

Range Rover Sport 2.7 TDV6 September 2006, 26,938 miles. Bling but still tempting. New: £37,685. Sold for £18,800.
 

Toyota Prius 1.5 T4 Hybrid July 2006, 22,662 miles. Green but zippy. New: £18,635. Sold for £9,900.

Picture Credit: Hugo90 (via Flickr)

(Paul Markillie is innovation editor of The Economist. In past columns he has written about driving economically and renting the car of your dreams.)