The ol' beast did well...
First on the shopping list!
"So how big a van do we need?"
"Well, I'd err on the side of caution and get the biggest one we can for the money." says I glancing around the living room knowing full well that I wasn't going to get all of the clutter, paraphernalia, and junk in anything this side of a 7.5 tonner.
I'd considered a removals firm for a brief moment in time.. But lottery number quotes coming back from well intentioned removals firms, now suffering terminal decline in business and an unsure future thanks to Boris and his stupid ideas put paid to that thought pretty much from the off. We've neither the budget nor the desire to get someone else to do it for us, and besides.....we've got the Barkministrator to consider too.
So van shopping was the priority. First rule of vehicle shopping, figure your budget, stick with it, and be prepared to view a lot of sheds before you come across Prince Charmin. And hell there was a load of sheds for sale in the bargain budget range. Most I doubted would make it to the end of the drive let alone half way across Europe.
But after much abuse of the keyboard scanning eBay and dodgy van sales sites I found, thanks to the assistance of my sister, a Citroen Relay LWB 3.5 tonne shed that, mechanically at least, fitted the bill and would make it at least to Folkstone.
It's always a gamble when your budget is less than the price of a good steak dinner but them's the choices you have to make.
So, she's a 2012 Citroen Relay with a slightly impressive 298,000 miles on the dial. The obligatory white van with dented panels, trim missing off the back door, and something that was clearly organic having died in the glovebox at some undetermined time in the past.
On the plus side, she had clearly been serviced, 5 decent tyres, an MOT that’s about as long as you can get for £2k, and an air of indestructability about her.
We nick-named it "Van Diesel"
I then named it something a lot more vulgar and offensive (and unprintable) when the front N/S calliper seized, as did the bank account to resolve it. £600 lighter for experience, but on the upside she'd now stop when you hit the anchors, and more importantly she'd then go when stomping back on the gas.
I can happily report she did 1/4 of the job and sits basking in the Spanish sun awaiting it's return journey to wet and windy England shortly. I've yet to decide what to do with her yet.
Who knows, maybe a memento of the experience.
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