Red, electronic dash, Recaros, ride as firm as a skateboard. Utter bag of shit. I fucking hated this car.

I'd part chopped the Cavalier for it and right at the death of the deal, the dealer says that the Astra had a record of having a minor bump so I paid the extra £100 warranty insurance thing just in case. I'll come back to that later....

Anyway, the car seems ok but cuts out now and then. It gets worse. And worse. And fucking worse. 10 trips to various garages, much fucking about and £30 here and there to get some oik to look at it and I fix it myself. I sprayed every connector I could see with WD40 and fuck me, it fixed it.

Then the drive shaft went. No problem, covered by warranty. Took it to my tyre fitter mate, told him to sort it and whack £250 on top for labour that we'd split once I got the money back on the warranty company. To cut a long story short, it cost me £350 - what the fuck!

Anyway, the car was wank. The suspension was so hard it made my bumhole itch. So I tried to part-ex it at a garage with a 309 GTi - loooked mint. I left my car there and took the 309 to a mate to have it checked. Two minutes later the garage owner is next to the 309 in the Astra looking well pissed off. Apparently the Astra had been stolen and recovered at least twice and was down as a write off. "So a straight swap is not what you're looking for then?" ventured I, "fuck off" says the dealer.

No problem, I'll sell it privately I said to my stupid ass self. So I sold it to a fat cunt from Sheffield. He knocked £300 off the asking price (which was more than I'd paid....) and paid cash.

In celebration, the Mrs and I went to McDonalds. I grabbed a couple of notes out of the wad and off we went, handed over a £20 for the food and.... it was a dodgy banknote. FUCK! Have I got £3500 worth of funny money at home?! Rushed home and found there to be about £200 of it in dodgy notes. Phew! I palmed the £200 off in the pubs down town no probs.



Arfer Daley