Part 6 (the final part) - 19/3/18

No, it didn’t write itself off, thank you very much.

But I do have a confession to make: I’ve sold it. I know, I’d not had it long, but I have got a (fairly) decent excuse. To tell you the truth, as much as I loved the Caddy – and I genuinely did love it, honestly – I was always worried about selling it. It’s one thing selling a Volkswagen Golf, but chucking a 1991 Cadillac Seville with a maroon cloth roof into the classifieds isn’t exactly going to have the phone ringing off the hook. Or so I thought.

Stupidly, I thought the best course of action was to advertise it about four or five months before I actually wanted to sell it. That way, I wouldn’t be so disappointed that nobody actually wanted it, and I had a car that I’d got to an agreeable level to enjoy for most of the summer. But I couldn’t have been more wrong. This is something I’m rarely guilty of, but I think I was too clever with the advertising, signing up to three American car groups on Facebook and advertising it there rather than with the usual suspects. Within three days, I had the cash in my hand.

Img 9318

These guys don’t mess about. They live and breathe automotive Americana; they know it inside out. So when a car as rare as mine in acceptable condition hit the feed, all hell broke loose. I had eight people after it within two days, and by the third, a chap said he’d buy it unseen if I drove it to him as proof that it could handle a stop-start journey across London to his home in Enfield.

I was almost sad. In fact, I almost said ‘no, you can’t have it’. But then it hit me like a poorly executed Elvis cover: this was too good an opportunity to miss – mainly because I’d advertised it at £500 more than I’d bought it for.