Firstly, I’d like to apologise for last week’s blog, where I may have given the impression that I was beseeching you all to buy a Saab before they all disappear in the GM maelstrom. Actually, I was referring to Vauxhall’s little dragon which seems even more likely to be slain.
As much as I would like to waffle on about my favourite specialist subject, which is worthless Saabs that only I’m actually interested in, I’ll talk Friday night auctions.
By the time you read this, I will be on my way to an auction. Now Friday night auctions don’t have the best reputation. Traditionally it contained all the dross that had not sold to the smart sheepskins in the trade during the week and were saved up for the punting public, just off work and keen to get a bargain.
Obviously Friday auctions were chock full of filler, bald spots and leaks, while you paid over the odds because the hall was full of bidders who knew neither the price or value of everything.