Only the setting of the sun can stop me when I’m in full flow

AS FELLOW part-time Del Boys will surely attest, selling or buying a car privately usually leaves you feeling one of a number of ways: relieved, deeply anxious or stone-cold nonplussed by the unfamiliar (and often warp-speed) interaction with a complete stranger about an infinitely complex object

– a car – and that most vulgar of subjects, money. That’s why God invented car dealers. They absorb all the stress and flog you a dream in return.

Happily, the recent sale of her nibs’ VW Lupo GTi (for a profit, no less) and purchase of a replacement – for a fraction of the price of the Lupo – were as painless as any such exchanges have been throughout almost 20 years of sporadic wheeling and dealing on the bottom rung of the motoring ladder.

And we banked £2500 in the process, money that two self-employed “creatives” could usefully reallocate to more pressing areas of life than cars.

It wasn’t easy to wave goodbye to the Lupo, I’ll admit, especially since I had spent what seemed like an eternity – a day or so, in reality – rinsing, pre-washing, rinsing again, washing, drying (with my latest gizmo – imagine a macho hairdryer with a comedically long hose), polishing and, finally, waxing the bodywork. That was before I did the same to the wheels before sealing them. Then shining the tyres. Then polishing the glass. Only the setting of the sun can stop me when I’m in full flow. All that labour, however, paid off. The prospective buyer, who had earlier admitted he would know within two minutes whether it was the car for him, was bowled over. An hour later the money was in the bank and the car was off to its new home in Newton Mearns. Laters, Y203 TSA.

The lessons for anyone looking to sell their car? Firstly, be honest in your ad. Don’t say anything you can’t substantiate and don’t exaggerate. Precious few cars are in the mint or exceptional condition their sellers claim them to be.

“Very good condition for year” is as far as I will ever go, no matter how good I think the car is.

Secondly, present the car in the best possible light. Clean the interior. Wash and polish the bodywork. Check the fluid levels and inflate the tyres to the correct pressure. Not that any of the above work had been done to the Honda HRV we bought 24 hours after selling the Lupo. No, sir.

The bodywork hadn’t seen soap in aeons, the wheels were caked in brake dust, the windscreen was filthy and I have no idea what the fluid levels were because I didn’t check.

But it was £650, came with an almost full service history and had little more than 75k on the clock after 17 years on the road. It felt as solid as a rock, was a one-owner ex-demo car and it turned out I knew the seller, someone of impeccable manners and decency.

The HRV is a lot of car for not a lot of money, and as I’ve already established, fettling cars is my strong suit. Result.