Surf’s Up for a Surfer Dude Selling His Beach Buggy.

Every now and again, we like you to meet some of the weird and wonderful characters who use our app. They serve as great examples of how easy our app is to use. So we spoke to Kyle Longboard* about his experiences with selling his vehicle.

“We all have to grow up sometime,” he says. “I had my beach buggy like forever. I love that thing, man, we had some great times in it.” Our customers sometimes reminisce about their vehicles. It’s because there’s an emotional connection a lot of people end up developing with their car.

“You know, my bros and I, we would drive Wild Stallion onto the beach, make a little fire, and do some night surfing. Good times, bro. Good times. Except for when Jonny got taken by a shark. But a burial at sea… that’s how I’d want to go.”

We’d like to make an important note here that sharks rarely attack humans and in no way should you find this one instance alarming and/or funny.

“Funny thing is, bro, the only sharks I am lank scared of are the ones trying to rip you off for your car. Laik, you can’t just do business with anyone you meet on the proverbial street, dude. And most definitely not on the information highway.”

That’s why Kyle decided maybe BuyCentre was the way to go.

“I’m not that into tech, except for Go Proing my wave-riding and stuff. I’m, like, into nature, really. Being one with the sea. There’s a beauty in catching that perfect wave at dawn, dude. But I heard lank good things about BuyCentre. Obs I went to the app store, just typed in ‘BuyCentre’ and got hooked up.”

Somewhere over the ridge, Kyle’s friends appear to be having a braai. When we ask Kyle about this, he says, “That smoke’s not coming from a fire, dude.”

Anyway…

Ja, all I had to do was open the app, and take out my driver’s licence. Well, first I had to find my driver’s licence. I always misplace it for some reason. But when I had it, bru, I just had to hold it in front of my phone’s camera and it does this thing. It gets all your info and lays it down, bro. It’s like something out of The Matrix. It’s actually a bit heeby-jeeby, but I know BuyCentre doesn’t work for The Man, so it’s all good.”

Which is true. We don’t work for The Man, we’re part of the trusted Williams Hunt Group, so even those a little on the paranoid side have reason to relax with us. Or should we say, like our friend Kyle would, chillax?

“Then I just had to take pics of my old lady. Once she was happy they could be used on Instagram, I went back to the app and took pics of my beach bug baby. Uploaded it to the Great Cloud in The Sky…” (We imagine most clouds are in the sky, though this one is more like on a server farm…) “…and then before too long, in fact, I was done curling, and I had an offer for my car. It was legit, seemed more than fair. So I went to a depot – apparently they’re in all the major urban centres, and they did a quick evaluation. All was good, and then I got my cash. I was able to upgrade my ride.”

And what does he drive now?

“A gnarly BMW 1-Series. Dude, got to match up to my groovy new promotion to company CFO.”

*His preferred pseudonym.

How Sue simply sold her CLK.

A lady called Sue.

We see all kinds of people. Tall people. Short people. Happy people. Really happy people (because they got good bang for their buck). Cat people. Dog people. Both those people are backseats with fur people. We’re okay with that.

All of them are looking for a convenient way, a safe way, to sell their car. One of those people is Sue.

Sue had a Mercedes CLK. It was her elder brother’s. He had recently passed away, and she inherited it. Now, you’ve got to understand, Sue is one of those Jane Austen types. You know, who love reading the Classics, those old school novels from the Victorian era. Where everything was very prim and proper. Tea at 4 o’ clock. One lump or two? That’s a reference for a spoonful of sugar.

Unwanted car needs love.

Anyway, she tried driving her CLK, and it really wasn’t her… cup of tea? It accelerated too fast, even out of sports mode. She constantly felt like she was navigating a guided missile.

It’s a beautiful car, but it isn’t for everybody, certainly not for a Victorian-style lady.

Sue wanted to sell it but didn’t know how. She tried a website and received a lot of offers. Some of them seemed dubious though. She’d been told by her sister’s son not to trust EFT statements nor cheques in the metaphorical mail. The offers were very high, the prospective buyers very insistent.

The best way to sell your car.

But her instinct was to play it safe. Anyway, she’d read countless stories of people who’d been snaked.

Fortunately, and not just for her but one of our sales reps (we give great commissions), she saw our Facebook page. Decided to download our app.

“I’m not really one for these things, fancy apps and whatnot. I mainly use my phone for calls and Candy Crush,” she said. “But I saw all the positive reviews, and I liked that BuyCentre is backed by Unitrans. Very respectable. Like the Late Queen’s Mother.”

Entering the information was easy. Sue simply used her Driver’s Licence barcode. The cellphone camera snapped it, and all her information was instantly loaded.

“I normally hate filling out forms. Terribly tedious. Oh, ‘name’. ‘Surname’. ‘Status?’ ‘Divorced, thank bloody goodness.’”

Next, she only had to snap some photos of her car. “I’m not really a photographer. I take pics of my grandson, he dribbles a lot. It’s very sweet, really. They do that, you know. Babies. It’s funny how when your (ex)husband does it, it really, really, is not.”

Quick and accurate.

Sue is the patient type. She walks her faithful golden retriever around the block. She enjoys cribbage with her friends. (She’s lethal.)

But she didn’t need to be patient. We had her an offer within an hour.

“It seemed more than fair. It was accurate according to what my friend’s son said – a surgeon by the way. He would know, he’s extremely successful. And on the market, if you’re interested. Very handsome. I can arrange an introduction. Loves the arts, and all that.”

“This car was driven by…”

We weren’t interested, but our clients tend to be very generous, for some reason.

So, Sue sold her CLK, and bought a nice, pristine Oldsmobile instead.

We buy cars, and we make it easy for you to sell them. And sometimes you can buy from us, too.

In this particular case, when we say, “It was driven by a little old lady,” it happens to be true.

Stuck in the Middelberg of Nowhere.

[A guest blogger tells us about his unfortunate adventure – stuck in the Middelberg of nowhere…]

Do you know how to build a camp fire? I don’t. I just ended up burning my socks. And the arid wastelands shouldn’t rain. I was caught in a downpour: there weren’t just cats and dogs showering on my head, there were coyotes and pumas.

Drenched, sitting on a rock, beside a fast deteriorating car, I couldn’t help thinking about the Netflix shows I could be watching now with takeout from Uber Eats.

One day I will return to this place with an army at my back. And I will build condos here, I thought to myself.

Eventually, after trying to Bear Grylls myself out of the situation, I stumbled on a small town. Don’t remember what it’s called. It’s barely a town. There were kids playing in the dusty street, and they stopped to stare at me. It’s like they’d never seen a stranger before, because they started throwing stones at me and kicking my shins. Where’s a handy crab-apple tree when you need one?

“Meneer?”

I looked around. There was an old man with a gargantuan Adam’s apple. He looked weathered. Typhoon-weather weathered.

“Do you have a landline? I can’t get signal here,” I said, waving my cellphone around like an epileptic conquered by Julius Seizure.

“Ek weet nie, Meneer.”

I mimicked a telephone, one with handles and physical buttons, and pushed them frantically. He nodded, then walked into the main building. Something hit my leg. I thought it was another kid kicking me, but it was just a tumbleweed.

We entered the building, and I saw what passed for a phone in these parts. It was a telegraph. You know, those machines big in the 1880s you could go beep-beep-beeeep-beeeep with? I started to cry.

This is all because I used a website I’ll call TakingChances.co.za. I wanted to buy a good pre-owned car. And it all looked tip-top. I checked. I went under the hood. I kicked the tyres. I did a body slam against it – no clickety clanks. All the things I’ve seen on TV. I’m like a professional.

The guy insisted his mom only drove it to the shops. I should have asked if they were located in Timbuktu. Nope. Can’t trust anybody.

Except BuyCentre. I should have just downloaded the App, seen what they had on offer – it’s because I forgot they don’t just buy your vehicle at a premium offering from over sixty dealers. They sell cars too. And they’re part of TransUnion, a company with a truckload of trust to their name.

Instead, I got scammed. Resulting in me hitting S.O.S. on the telegraph machine over and over and over in the middle of nowhere.

I heard, an hour later, a neigh.

Frikkie, from a slightly bigger town close by, brought the town’s only horse to my rescue.

Now, as we ride to the nearest population centre, I’ve finally got signal again. At the speed of one horse-power, which is one horse-power more than I got from not using the BuyCentre app.

When it comes to buying cars from TakingChances.co.za, I say neigh.