Days went by, minutes ticked away, and there was still no word from London about potential housing. I gave up bothering her. It was beyond my control. I believe she was not the happiest woman on the planet and did not expect me to come, and perhaps even hoped that I would change my mind.
None of that really could have happened because my mind was made up and sharply focused; I was just counting down the days until it was time to go.
I did little preparation to pack and didn’t buy stuff like clothes or shoes. I just carried on working and meeting Kopo now and then over the weekend, mostly at his place, because of his phobia about sleeping at other people’s homes. He was less and less available because he started playing and smoking a lot of weed with a mentally damaged man who was a synthesiser player. I wanted to get in with them, but they enjoyed each other’s company, so I never really had the chance and I got quite jealous, I must admit. I offered to sing or to play bass, but the freaky guy blocked it. I went on with my life, put my car up for sale, and sorted legal papers with the Austrian Jobcentre. I had to tell them I would leave the country indefinitely. I went to a travel agent and purchased a one-way ticket to London Heathrow, which cost me around 4200 schillings, and I also exchanged schillings worth £205. She was staying for a year, so I figured that since I would arrive two months later, I would stay two months longer, allowing me to claim that I also stayed for a year. I definitely had intentions of coming back to Austria, but somehow I still only purchased a one-way ticket. I suppose this is just that gut feeling upon which I have been relying all my life!
The first week of November was upon me. There was still no news on the accommodation front, and I thought I was going to give Nic a call and ask him again. Things might have changed in the past month. I called him from my test line and he continued saying that he has that room available, which is up for grabs for £400, but if I arrive on Friday, he is happy to have me stay the weekend there for free and my girlfriend should pick up the key.
I sat there, flabbergasted. My imagination hits different highs. “This is pretty amazing.” I still have 649 phone numbers and addresses in my arsenal, so I should be able to get some information about housing and possibly some job offers, too. In a situation like this, any help comes in well and is much appreciated. The Hungarian people are second to none, as premature thought swept my mind.
I called and told her this, but she said there is plenty of time and she will pick up the key at some point.
I sold the car a week before my departure, and I was thrilled. I bought it for 8,000 schillings nine months prior, covered 16, 000 km, and sold it for 15, 000 schillings to an old man who came with his daughter.
It was a rather interesting sale experience because a few weeks before the sale, one of the glow plugs burnt out and the battery was on its last leg. Kopo had connections in Forstinger, Austria’s equivalent to Eurocarparts, and he negotiated a deal for me. They sold me a brand new battery for half the price. We also agreed that if the battery isn’t suitable for the car, I could return it. Its physical size was half of the existing one by VARTA, but the car started and ran perfectly.
I still kept the old battery, which was working, but it needed to be on the charger overnight. Then it lasted for the day, but overnight it lost most of the charge. As the elderly man and his daughter arrived, the brand new battery was fitted, and the car worked immaculately. The right front wing had a long, deep dent, and I made sure I did not leave the side of the car. I learned my lesson because a week earlier, a guy was ready to pay the money and then he saw the dent, which I overpainted with a cheap white spray, but still it looked pretty bad. Of course, it was just cosmetics, so it never bothered me, but some people are extremely particular.
We agreed they would come back in 2 days’ time in the morning to pick up the car. I went outside one hour before they came to swap the batteries, started up the engine, and drove around for 20 minutes. The battery was on charge all night, plus the engine got nice and warm. So when they came, the car started up absolutely fine. They paid in cash and they left.
I jumped into my mother’s Opel Corsa and took the battery, which I had been using for two weeks, right back to the shop and told them it was not working with my car. They said, “We are not exchanging batteries.” We cannot take it back. You bought it two weeks ago. Of course, I had the receipt. I made a scene until one guy came, who I recognised, and he also had a vague memory of our agreement.
After a hard-fought battle, he agreed hard-heartedly to take the item and refunded me 450 schillings in cash. The Citroën received its old battery. It would have been a pain in the neck to recycle that half-functional power source properly. Some people dumped them somewhere where no one could see them. I have never done this, but I let others unconsciously do it for me. There is a high possibility that the mechanic took it back and recycled it according to the regulations.
I removed the radio and several wires leading to the speakers, too. In hindsight, this was completely stupid, but I could not have known how my trip to England would turn out. The BX had a nice little grey flap which disguised the radio, so the buyers never knew if it had a radio when they came to view the car.
The next day, around mid-afternoon, I got a phone call from the lady saying that the car was not starting. It was perfectly fine when I sold it. Maybe it’s an issue with the battery, I replied. She took it to the mechanic, who confirmed it while adding that both poles are scratched and grooved, so it must have been in charge several times! The car started perfectly fine upon purchase. She made a big scene on the phone, but I did not yield. She claimed she was going to replace the battery, but if that was not the fault, I’m going to have problems.
I just kept repeating it! I sold it as seen. It’s a private sale. It’s completely your responsibility. This car selling business is absolutely tough, but to be honest, I didn’t feel bad about it because it was an old car and when they came, the car was working perfectly well. In a car like that, the battery could die at any point. I was not a trader; I was just a 24-year-old boy who didn’t want to spend 450 schillings on a battery and only use it for a couple of weeks. If I had kept the car, it would have been a completely different story. So here is a quick lesson for you, respected readers. If you demo drive a car and it is a private seller and you cannot take it on the spot, take a picture of the engine bay to have a comparison for the day when you buy it. In the year 2000, things were very different. Digital cameras were prohibitively expensive. Unless you had a Sharp J-SH04, it would have been difficult to take pictures and have them developed, because supermarkets took a week or more. There was no need to complain, because I gave them a set of bold winter tires too, so they had a set of “sommer patschn” and a set of “winter bock”.