Test Drive? But of course
Back in the dim and distant days of 1998, things were all fresh and happy. The Grinning Spiv and his ilk had been voted in, things really were going to get better, and I was a VW Sales 'Consultant'. Woo. I preferred the term 'whore', but never mind.

Now as it happened I was also the dealerships high performance 'specialist'. This basically meant I was trusted to drive the naughty stuff without killing myself and random members of the population, and the post was mine as I wasn't coked out of my little tree on a regular basis, and hadn't crashed anything at Millbrook, despite trying very very hard.

(I also nearly had a purple Golf VR6 with purple leather upholstery as a demonstrator, but thankfully the Good Taste Fairy stepped in and slapped me around the chops, but let's leave 90's lack of taste on the side)

Hanyway, on the forecourt was sitting a Golf VR6. At the time, these were regarded as a serious bit of kit, and as such were stolen and crashed on a regular basis, therefore 19 year old lads on their first visit did NOT get a testdrive, they got a demonstration.

This particular Golf had been in stock for ages. Absolutely nothing wrong with it, apart from being Dog-Knob Red, but it just didn't sell. So it was due to make it's sorry way to the auctions, which was a shame as it was a genuinely nice motor (and I took a pride in what I sold), plus I got paid an extra £50 if I sold anything that had been in stock for more than a month.

So a young chap turned up and is sniffing around the car, literally a day before the truck was due to collect it. We have a wee chat, he seems happy with the numbers, and then he asks for a test drive. Now, as it was this specific car he was alleging an interest in, and I only had a day to deal, not too much of a problem, so off we go.

Laughingly I say "don't scare me too much" as we trundle off. And he didn't, at least until we went for a quick blat down the A1.

"Give it a wee bit of welly", I suggest, expecting a quick Vroom and then a slow down to normal-ish velocity. This is, after all, why VR6s were made.

70
80
90
*cough*
"We'll be coming off at the next Junction, so you'll need to get over to the left"

(This is the A1 by Hatfield, where you go under the Galleria)

90
100
110
120

*extremely meaningful cough as I cling onto the upholstery with my sphincter alone*

"Slow it down now, and come off at the next junction. Please"

120
110
100

*junction approaches*

100

100

*junction really approaches quite jolly fast indeed*

100

*ohh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit*

To come off at this junction now required swerving from lane two across the packed lane one, possibly utilising the hard shoulder, although my eyes had closed at that point and I was watching my life flash before me.

YC: "Facking wicked mate"

Me: "Gng"

YC: "Course, I can't afford the insurance"

Me: "Just pull over there for a sec? Ta. Now give me the keys. Now get out of the car"

YC: "What you facking talking about?"

Me: "Get out or I'll drag you out. You're not driving this car another foot"

YC: "Fack off, you can't do this you cahhnt"

Me: "I am not a crash test dummy. I am not selling you this car that you have just admitted you can't afford, and you have nearly killed me and a load of other people by driving like a complete and utter tit. Now out"

YC: "You facking etc etc"

Me: "One more word, and you can walk back"

YC: *sulks*

Back to base, and as soon as YC gets out of the vehicle he goes into full monkey-arm-swinging, skinny-chest-puffed-out hard man act. Apparently he was going to have me sacked, the premises were going to be torched, and I was going to get my head kicked in. Not necessarily in that order. And no, he wasn't going to leave the premises unless I "fancied some".

"I want to speak to the Manager you Facking Cahnt"

The Manager is naturally hiding, so I stick my head around his office door and give him a summary of the afternoon's events and my intended solution to the problem.

Back to the irate polyester-clad gibbon on the forecourt.

"He says you can Fuck Off too"

"Or wait for the police. Your choice"
(osok Rebel without a clue, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 17:13, 2 replies)

Should have been the police.
Get cahnts like that off the roads. I mean if you're any good and it's your own car (as well as it being otherwise fairly safe) then fair enough- speed. Don't hurt anyone, don't get caught, no-one will ever care.

But that guy sounds like a complete twat of the highest order.
( uberdeity Wondered why Owen Lars knew of the term "hell" on, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 17:27, closed)

damm you oosk!!
you have just brought back a repressed memory of going for a test drive with a similar person years ago. The idiot couldnt understand 4wheel steering despite it being explained several times . Heswerved all over the road in front of oncomming trucks etc at speeds well over the limit. He just kept saying "Hmmmmmm steering funny"

im off to hide under my duvet and suck my thumb now
(welgar, Tue 9 Sep 2008, 8:18, closed)