First of all: This article may well be classified as drivel but sadly it is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. So help me Percy. (My lill god) In 1993 my neighbour became g*tfull of South Africa and decided to return to France his alte heimat.
Every single item in his home was packed out in the rooms and mostly all over the place. Much was sold at bargain prices while others went for no prices at all in the name of buckshees.
Eventually the great day had arrived and what was order now became chaos. What remained of the chattels was parked in my garage. Except the Big maroon BMW which was left on the drive. This Bemmer was the pride and joy of its owner and now it stood forlornly while the family went oversees. Pete, as we will refer to him was down in the depths of melancholia and just damn sad.
Then he came up with a brilliant idea: I drive him and his family and including mine and to Jan Smuts airport. After he and family has been off loaded I return the Bemmer to my garage and pay the final 3 installments and hey presto it has a new owner. We reached Kempton Park late in the afternoon and while stopping the vehicle the neighbour’s wife screeched and jumper out of the car and crossed the street weaving between other moving vehicles. She had seen a sigh fitted to a butcher shop window; “ HORSE MEAT FOR SALE” Frenchmen and their families love horse meat above all others.
The gasping lady returned to the car toting a huge pack of horsemeat and a smile. We went to the cops and signed an affidavit that I would take over the vehicle and pay the final payments and so the Bemmer became mine. Some weeks later we received a telephone call from France, the family was happy despite having the pack of horse meat confiscated on the airport