Copied from skylineowners.com as we were in stitches over there.
http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/ws/eBayISAPI....0&_trksid=m38&_nkw=270543596511&_fvi=1&_rdc=1
http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/ws/eBayISAPI....0&_trksid=m38&_nkw=270543596511&_fvi=1&_rdc=1
Good for a laugh, Ebay K10 for sale :D
- Thread starter Balloo2u
- Start date
andy88
Ex. Club Member
it not this blue one is it
2 bedrooms, nice view :suspect:
http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/1989-NISSAN-MICRA-GS-AUTO-BLUE_W0QQitemZ270543596511QQcmdZViewItemQQptZAutomobiles_UK?hash=item3efda7abdf
2 bedrooms, nice view :suspect:
http://cgi.ebay.co.uk/1989-NISSAN-MICRA-GS-AUTO-BLUE_W0QQitemZ270543596511QQcmdZViewItemQQptZAutomobiles_UK?hash=item3efda7abdf
loved it 
Well what have we here? Something to keep the lawnmower in? Well actually that might not be a bad idea: I’ve seen sheds in B&Q for well over £400, and when the auction ends, this might just end up a damn sight cheaper. And it has 3 doors instead of one, you won’t need to buy a padlock, it won’t need creosoting every year, and if you get bored of it, you can always drive it to a new corner of your garden.
Actually I think I am being rather unfair to this little blue nail . Lets get back to Ebay speak. What you are bidding on here is a 1989 Nissan Micra GS, blah blah. I think GS stands for Goes Slowly, but I’m not quite sure. And I was once told that Nissan stands for Normally In Some Scrapyard, Always Nackered. Please don’t email me telling me that I am dyslexic, because I know you spell Knackered with a K. But then it would be a Nissak, and that wouldn’t really be funny.
Anyway back to the car. I have had the dubious distinction of knowing this car from brand new, when my pal Crispy Duck’s Auntie Claire bought it from our local Datsun dealership many moons ago. It went into receivership not long after. Auntie Claire accumulated around 60000 miles in the car, wearing a little shallow groove in the road from her house to the local shop and the hairdressers in the process. When it was time for her to give up driving (some would argue that she should have given up driving the day she passed her test) it passed into the hands of Crispy, who decided to use it to commute in for no other reason other than the fact that the radio picks up Test Match Special on Radio 4.
Now what happened next is a bit of a blur to be honest. I still can’t pinpoint it, but old Crispy seems to be in possession of some form of automotive Rohypnol, whereby I end up going to the pub with him, and inexplicably after only a couple of pints of mild, I end up having my pants pulled down, my wallet violated, and stagger out of the pub owning the keys and the V5 keys to yet another of one of his old bangers.
The next day I awoke with a headache, feeling a little hazy. Hoping it was some weird dream, I peered out of the window, only to find that our normally clean, orderly drive was being cluttered up by a little blue runter. However, as my hangover cleared, the purchase didn’t actually seem too painful in the cold light of day. In fact it started to make perfect sense. Soon after, the little car was pressed into active service as a perfect way of annoying the hell out of all of our neighbours, most of whom actually think that since they have all lived on our road since 1908, they have a god given right to park their sparkling clean sensible middle class biddy mobiles in our parking spot. If the little Micra’s appearance raised so much as a tut from at least 3 separate neighbours, then for us at least, it was worth double the purchase price alone.
There were other uses. When we built our fence, the little car kept our Blue Circle cement dry. And the little ginger kid down the road became East Cheshire’s hide and seek champion after realising that we never bother to lock it, and the boot became a winning hiding place.
But all good things must come to an end. After the car had served it’s purpose, and the neighbours had lost interest in tutting any further, we decided to do the sensible thing and send it to the scrappie. The ginger kid cried a bit, arguing tearfully that hide and seek was the only thing he was good at and if he lost his credibility then sure fire hardcore bullying would result. We took no notice.
And yet, even though the jaws of the crusher seemed the obvious answer, something had started to niggle me. This little car just seemed a bit to good to scrap. What got to me was that, despite being left out in the cold and never driven or started in weeks, as soon as the key was turned, the motor sprang into life like an eager puppy, ticking over like a swiss watch. When Crispy owned the car, the MOT man had shaken his head, fearing that any moment, Crispy would be doing his impression of Fred Flintstone, although being a little on the rotund side, this was probably no surprise.
So don’t ask me why but we took it upon ourselves to save the little car. We removed the bags of cement, hoovered out the remnants of Crispy’s scruffy mutt’s dog hairs (and a few ginger ones) from the boot, scrubbed the paint, polished the seats, and phoned a bloke called Bernard who, after a fair bit of sweating, did some welding to the sills to satisfy the MOT man. While he was there, he also undersealed the car with black stuff that looks like it came from Deidre Barlow’s lung. We fitted a nice new battery, then booked it for an MOT, and after an anxious wait akin to waiting for my disastrous GCSE results many years ago, Derek the MOT man produced the golden MOT ticket. Hooray!
Now fully legal, I decided to take it for a test drive, I arranged some life insurance cover, said my goodbyes to my fiancee and the cat, and crept out gingerly onto the main road. Unbelievably, it drove in a straight line, stopped in a straight line, made no rattles, noises or squeaks, every single thing still worked, and all of a sudden, it all started to make sense. This is an old, yet still dependable car that just does the job with the minimum of fuss or frill. Unlike your new BMW, you can dump it on the kerb right outside the door of the pub, and not care. And when you return the next day with a hangover to find that someone has chucked the remains their donner kebab on the bonnet, you laugh. It is small, like old small cars used to be, making modern Smarts and Toyota IQ’s seem lardy and cumbersome in comparison, which means you can park in any space you like. The auto box makes it a breeze to drive. There is no power steering to go wrong. The windows move by turning a handle, which means that as well as being one less thing to go wrong, you can keep fit at the same time. It’s great on petrol. The ‘lights on’ buzzer makes an amusing noise. And, most importantly of all, you can pick up Test Match Special on Radio 4.
So there we have it. A rattling good motor, with a full MOT, that’s a bit retro, and potentially has many years life left in it yet.. We will be letting the auction run it’s course, so there is no need to ask what is the Buy It Now offers. And the reserve is quite low too, but again there is no need to ask. In fact don’t bother asking any daft questions, as you may end up facing public ridicule.
Good luck. You'll need it.
Actually I think I am being rather unfair to this little blue nail . Lets get back to Ebay speak. What you are bidding on here is a 1989 Nissan Micra GS, blah blah. I think GS stands for Goes Slowly, but I’m not quite sure. And I was once told that Nissan stands for Normally In Some Scrapyard, Always Nackered. Please don’t email me telling me that I am dyslexic, because I know you spell Knackered with a K. But then it would be a Nissak, and that wouldn’t really be funny.
Anyway back to the car. I have had the dubious distinction of knowing this car from brand new, when my pal Crispy Duck’s Auntie Claire bought it from our local Datsun dealership many moons ago. It went into receivership not long after. Auntie Claire accumulated around 60000 miles in the car, wearing a little shallow groove in the road from her house to the local shop and the hairdressers in the process. When it was time for her to give up driving (some would argue that she should have given up driving the day she passed her test) it passed into the hands of Crispy, who decided to use it to commute in for no other reason other than the fact that the radio picks up Test Match Special on Radio 4.
Now what happened next is a bit of a blur to be honest. I still can’t pinpoint it, but old Crispy seems to be in possession of some form of automotive Rohypnol, whereby I end up going to the pub with him, and inexplicably after only a couple of pints of mild, I end up having my pants pulled down, my wallet violated, and stagger out of the pub owning the keys and the V5 keys to yet another of one of his old bangers.
The next day I awoke with a headache, feeling a little hazy. Hoping it was some weird dream, I peered out of the window, only to find that our normally clean, orderly drive was being cluttered up by a little blue runter. However, as my hangover cleared, the purchase didn’t actually seem too painful in the cold light of day. In fact it started to make perfect sense. Soon after, the little car was pressed into active service as a perfect way of annoying the hell out of all of our neighbours, most of whom actually think that since they have all lived on our road since 1908, they have a god given right to park their sparkling clean sensible middle class biddy mobiles in our parking spot. If the little Micra’s appearance raised so much as a tut from at least 3 separate neighbours, then for us at least, it was worth double the purchase price alone.
There were other uses. When we built our fence, the little car kept our Blue Circle cement dry. And the little ginger kid down the road became East Cheshire’s hide and seek champion after realising that we never bother to lock it, and the boot became a winning hiding place.
But all good things must come to an end. After the car had served it’s purpose, and the neighbours had lost interest in tutting any further, we decided to do the sensible thing and send it to the scrappie. The ginger kid cried a bit, arguing tearfully that hide and seek was the only thing he was good at and if he lost his credibility then sure fire hardcore bullying would result. We took no notice.
And yet, even though the jaws of the crusher seemed the obvious answer, something had started to niggle me. This little car just seemed a bit to good to scrap. What got to me was that, despite being left out in the cold and never driven or started in weeks, as soon as the key was turned, the motor sprang into life like an eager puppy, ticking over like a swiss watch. When Crispy owned the car, the MOT man had shaken his head, fearing that any moment, Crispy would be doing his impression of Fred Flintstone, although being a little on the rotund side, this was probably no surprise.
So don’t ask me why but we took it upon ourselves to save the little car. We removed the bags of cement, hoovered out the remnants of Crispy’s scruffy mutt’s dog hairs (and a few ginger ones) from the boot, scrubbed the paint, polished the seats, and phoned a bloke called Bernard who, after a fair bit of sweating, did some welding to the sills to satisfy the MOT man. While he was there, he also undersealed the car with black stuff that looks like it came from Deidre Barlow’s lung. We fitted a nice new battery, then booked it for an MOT, and after an anxious wait akin to waiting for my disastrous GCSE results many years ago, Derek the MOT man produced the golden MOT ticket. Hooray!
Now fully legal, I decided to take it for a test drive, I arranged some life insurance cover, said my goodbyes to my fiancee and the cat, and crept out gingerly onto the main road. Unbelievably, it drove in a straight line, stopped in a straight line, made no rattles, noises or squeaks, every single thing still worked, and all of a sudden, it all started to make sense. This is an old, yet still dependable car that just does the job with the minimum of fuss or frill. Unlike your new BMW, you can dump it on the kerb right outside the door of the pub, and not care. And when you return the next day with a hangover to find that someone has chucked the remains their donner kebab on the bonnet, you laugh. It is small, like old small cars used to be, making modern Smarts and Toyota IQ’s seem lardy and cumbersome in comparison, which means you can park in any space you like. The auto box makes it a breeze to drive. There is no power steering to go wrong. The windows move by turning a handle, which means that as well as being one less thing to go wrong, you can keep fit at the same time. It’s great on petrol. The ‘lights on’ buzzer makes an amusing noise. And, most importantly of all, you can pick up Test Match Special on Radio 4.
So there we have it. A rattling good motor, with a full MOT, that’s a bit retro, and potentially has many years life left in it yet.. We will be letting the auction run it’s course, so there is no need to ask what is the Buy It Now offers. And the reserve is quite low too, but again there is no need to ask. In fact don’t bother asking any daft questions, as you may end up facing public ridicule.
Good luck. You'll need it.
If it's Romford one you mean, then I bought that one with a 5 second snipe bid! I've done about a hundred miles in it since yesterday. All it needed was a new alternator drive belt. It's a bit doggy on the inside but the description did mention it. Bodywork's great for a quarter century. The mechanical condition & the wear on the inside seems to match the claimed mileage, and the old MOTs certificates do indeed show only a tiny amount of mileage over the last couple of years. So it's going strong after a day. Oh, the radio works, too. I hope it all stays that way...
porkpie700
Buy & Sell Member
That guy should have been kicked off ebay for wasting everybody's time and failing to provide information hat was acctually usefull to potential bidders. People like this are self righteous well-off ###### that take everything for granted and need shipping over to work in the rice fields of the 3rd world untill they get their thick heads around just how damn fortunate they are to have a car.
People take the p*** out of little old car but they all forget that when these things came out they travelled the country retlentlessly, taking longer routes because the shorter modern routes we have today were not around them. And these things never missed a beat, ever! I sometimes ride around in my '67 morris mini and wonder how people used to travel long hauls in cars of that era but then i remember that they did the job, coz that's what we had to work with in that era. Go from a 60's car to a k10 and you won't take jack-all for granted.
If you don't like something fine, you don't have to, but that doesn't mean that it's crap so don't slag it off.
People take the p*** out of little old car but they all forget that when these things came out they travelled the country retlentlessly, taking longer routes because the shorter modern routes we have today were not around them. And these things never missed a beat, ever! I sometimes ride around in my '67 morris mini and wonder how people used to travel long hauls in cars of that era but then i remember that they did the job, coz that's what we had to work with in that era. Go from a 60's car to a k10 and you won't take jack-all for granted.
If you don't like something fine, you don't have to, but that doesn't mean that it's crap so don't slag it off.
frank
Club Member
porkpie700
Buy & Sell Member
What can i say, it's been one of those days...
Nans_Micra
Ex. Club Member
Made me laugh, thanks Balloo. The Q&A bit at the bottom is hilarious!
Similar threads
