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Ricci's Garage: time to stop buying cars... on Facebook Marketplace

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Ricci's Garage: time to stop buying cars... on Facebook Marketplace | Top Gear

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Mark buys a lovely Mitsubishi Pajero... from a nice man in Johannesburg

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Ricci's Garage: time to stop buying cars... on Facebook Marketplace

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Mark buys a lovely Mitsubishi Pajero... from a nice man in Johannesburg

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Ricci's Garage: time to stop buying cars... on Facebook Marketplace

# data.attributes.metatag[].attributes.content
Mark buys a lovely Mitsubishi Pajero... from a nice man in Johannesburg

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Ricci's Garage: time to stop buying cars... on Facebook Marketplace

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Ricci's Garage: time to stop buying cars... on Facebook Marketplace

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Mark buys a lovely Mitsubishi Pajero... from a nice man in Johannesburg

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Renowned photographer Mark has been working with Top Gear for many, many years. When not taking photos he’s buying inappropriate cars. Here he shares his addiction with the world

The time has finally come to stop buying cars. Or more specifically, cars on Facebook Marketplace. Usually after many evenings spent browsing the classifieds, changing location to gain even more results and (gradually) increasing the price until something interesting pops up.

Over the years I’ve bought various cars off marketplace completely unseen. I’ve sent money to strangers in the hope they’re not scammers, and inevitably I’ve then had cars arrive which were completely different to their description. Always much worse, funnily enough. Yet earlier this year I managed to tick all of those red flags – and then some more – by purchasing a car that wasn’t in England. Or even Europe, but some 9,000 miles away in the depths of South Africa.

It only really hit home when the seller – a nice man by the name of Johan Du Toit (which should’ve hinted at his location) – sent me his bank details which pointed to a South African account. Other hints included South African numberplates, a sunny and sandy location where the images were taken, the price being in South African rand (which I assumed was the mileage) and the description stating it would be “ideal for launching boats”.

Obviously, I could’ve explained this confusion to Johan and waved goodbye to my deposit. But that would’ve branded me with the ultimate cone of shame for car buying, a category M ‘messer’ slapped on those who proceed to waste a seller’s time while having no real means of actually going through with the sale.

No way could I carry that shame around my neck. However, in my defence, we’re not dealing with a particularly expensive car. 49,000 rand is around £2k – an absolute bargain for an early 1985 Pajero Wagon complete with Safari roof, rebuilt engine and (allegedly) working aircon. Unfortunately, initial shipping quotes to get the Pajero from Johannesburg to the UK outweighed the initial cost of the car. I did think about driving it back, but the fuel would also cost more than the car itself. And having two young children at home while spending 168 hours (according to Google) driving it back isn’t the best use of time either.

So instead, it’ll stay in South Africa a little longer while I try to figure out a means of getting it back without spending a fortune. Because for all my love of old Pajeros, they’re not exactly the most reliable things right now. My other MkI wagon only starts when the gearshifter is violently switched between park and neutral, and my Evolution has decided it doesn’t actually want to go into any gear either. And, because it rhymes with ‘homologation special’ a replacement gearbox from Mitsubishi is the same price as a decent family hatchback.

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Renowned photographer Mark has been working with Top Gear for many, many years. When not taking photos he’s buying inappropriate cars. Here he shares his addiction with the world

The time has finally come to stop buying cars. Or more specifically, cars on Facebook Marketplace. Usually after many evenings spent browsing the classifieds, changing location to gain even more results and (gradually) increasing the price until something interesting pops up.

Over the years I’ve bought various cars off marketplace completely unseen. I’ve sent money to strangers in the hope they’re not scammers, and inevitably I’ve then had cars arrive which were completely different to their description. Always much worse, funnily enough. Yet earlier this year I managed to tick all of those red flags – and then some more – by purchasing a car that wasn’t in England. Or even Europe, but some 9,000 miles away in the depths of South Africa.

It only really hit home when the seller – a nice man by the name of Johan Du Toit (which should’ve hinted at his location) – sent me his bank details which pointed to a South African account. Other hints included South African numberplates, a sunny and sandy location where the images were taken, the price being in South African rand (which I assumed was the mileage) and the description stating it would be “ideal for launching boats”.

Obviously, I could’ve explained this confusion to Johan and waved goodbye to my deposit. But that would’ve branded me with the ultimate cone of shame for car buying, a category M ‘messer’ slapped on those who proceed to waste a seller’s time while having no real means of actually going through with the sale.

No way could I carry that shame around my neck. However, in my defence, we’re not dealing with a particularly expensive car. 49,000 rand is around £2k – an absolute bargain for an early 1985 Pajero Wagon complete with Safari roof, rebuilt engine and (allegedly) working aircon. Unfortunately, initial shipping quotes to get the Pajero from Johannesburg to the UK outweighed the initial cost of the car. I did think about driving it back, but the fuel would also cost more than the car itself. And having two young children at home while spending 168 hours (according to Google) driving it back isn’t the best use of time either.

So instead, it’ll stay in South Africa a little longer while I try to figure out a means of getting it back without spending a fortune. Because for all my love of old Pajeros, they’re not exactly the most reliable things right now. My other MkI wagon only starts when the gearshifter is violently switched between park and neutral, and my Evolution has decided it doesn’t actually want to go into any gear either. And, because it rhymes with ‘homologation special’ a replacement gearbox from Mitsubishi is the same price as a decent family hatchback.

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Mark buys a lovely Mitsubishi Pajero... from a nice man in Johannesburg