‘Buy a car for less than the price of a train ticket!’
James finds a superior way to get home from France
Taking a fancy to my 20 year-old Peugeot 806, friends living in France decided to buy it and so we hatched a wacky plan for me to deliver it to them near the town of Limoges, where I’d stay for a few nights and then catch a train home. I like railway journeys. This one would give me the chance to sit still for a while, put my headphones on and catch up on the mass of new music I’ve missed out on of late. The stint to Paris would snake through sprawling green farmland and following a brief coffee and dither across the French capital, in no time at all I’d be rolling into Waterloo.
But, what if…? I glanced down at my phone and began having naughty thoughts. Wouldn’t it be fun to drive home in a banger? The French – like us Brits – have fallen out with cars of a certain era which means they’re disappearing very fast. What a waste. Legislation means it’s costlier than ever to drive older cars – despite being perfectly serviceable – so they’re being mercilessly kicked off the road in their masses. That nagging voice in my head was suggesting I might just take advantage. A plane ticket would be the cheapest way of getting home but at least with a car, I could sell it when I got there. I have been here before. Having once been stranded at York train station, I went online and found a £200 Alfa Romeo 156 that I drove home that evening and sold for the same price twelve hours later. My current daily driver is a £250 Citroën C5 diesel estate I bought in Birmingham one day, while at the mercy of a broken West Midlands rail network. Two years on, the roomy and comfortable C5 HDI has since become the most useful, economical and dependable car I have ever owned. So, my track record appears to be solid in the UK but where does one start in France? Having delivered the Peugeot to my friends, I logged on to the hotel Wi-fi and began a trawl of Leboncoin. The online French flea market responded by attempting to coax me into another Peugeot – a very clean 305
saloon. Unfortunately, the voice at the end of the phone was unable to comprehend my clumsy attempts at communication. Just as well, I thought, as a 2CV presented itself and it was located just down the road. ‘RUSTY!’ barked the owner, who was wearing an actual beret when he answered the door. Following him around the back of the house, we stumbled over broken bicycles and aged farming equipment to find a decrepit Deux Chevaux under a tarpaulin in the gentleman’s allotment. My heart sank. Clearly, the car hadn’t moved in quite some time so there was a further confused exchange, friendly handshake and farewell from Mr Beret. No tin snail for me, then.
I momentarily switched for a ‘door-to-door enquiry’ approach as up the road, a scruffy Talbot Samba looked rather promising. Unfortunately the response from that particular gent was a guffaw of laughter and a door in the face. Later that day, a previous enquiry online led to a short taxi ride into Limoges and the viewing of a Renault 4 but given its knackered (albeit working) condition, I was not about to part with 3500 for it. However, my concerted efforts were eventually rewarded. I returned to the bar of my guesthouse and was browsing Eurostar timetables when I got into conversation with a couple from Saint Yrieix-la-perche. Philip and Lynne Taylor wanted rid of their aged Renault in favour of something newer. Their local ‘garagistes’ – Patrick Bayle and his son Benjamin – had maintained the car for years and had urged the couple not to scrap it. My smile widened as it became apparent the Renault
in question was a 25. Wine was drunk and hands were shaken. In my head, I was going home in style.
Next morning, the Renault was revealed behind a set of garage doors and in return for €150, I was handed the keys, a carte grise and the Contrôle Technique paperwork (French MOT), reassuringly not due to expire until 2020. The car fired up immediately in a swirl of diesel smoke, settled down to a satisfactory Parisian taxi tickover and following some scribbles on paperwork and a call to my insurance company, I began my journey home.
Everything on the car appeared to be functioning despite its shabby state. I set course for Tours for an overnight stop in Chinon, via numerous perfectly straight stretches of tree-lined country road and stuck to a route that vaguely followed a line of train stations – just in case I had to abandon the car in a scrapyard en route. But as scruffy as it was, it gave me no cause for concern – reassured by the mass of paperwork in the glovebox: bills for recent brakes and tyres and loads of service history, including fitment of a new cambelt in February.
The mileage increased, as did my confidence in the Renault. Near Le Mans, I nosed onto the autoroute and settled into a comfortable 130kph cruise, that 2-litre turbodiesel humming away happily for a few hours until I diverted to a village near Alençon for lunch with friends Alex and Kerry Lester at their holiday cottage. Familiar with my automotive antics, Alex loaned me a wooden plank with which to prop open the bonnet. ‘Is this thing likely to get you home?’ he quipped, picking up a piece of trim that had dropped onto his lawn.
That evening, I approached the coast with the intention of spending a night in Le Havre, where I would find an enthusiast to take the car off my hands. I would then seamlessly make the transition from intrepid banger driver to cosseted Brittany Ferries foot passenger. However, the prospect of a train journey from Portsmouth to Waterloo, plus a traipse across the capital to Kings Cross, filled me with dread. ‘Oh, what the heck,’ I heard myself say.
Hours later, the Renault was on the vehicle deck of the MV Etretat. If nothing else, with no experience of importing cars at all, I would use the R25 to further my education and immerse myself in a world of DVLA paperwork. Given the Renault’s sumptuous interior, comfy ride, usefully torquey diesel engine and tow bar, I was certain I could find good use for it at home. It certainly beats catching a train.
THE VERDICT
Now UK registered, we’re comfortable the car would sell for at least £500, so if James ever sells the car, the venture will have more than paid for itself. Perfect bangernomics.