Andrew Martin parts ways with four-wheeled friend and confidante

If King Charles can develop relationships with bark, then there’s hope for me.

Our monarch has admitted to holding conversations with trees.

“I happily talk to the plants and the trees, and listen to them. I think it’s absolutely crucial,” he told a BBC interviewer in 2010.

His courtiers have confirmed he often gives a leafy branch “a friendly shake to wish it well.”

Throughout my life I feel I’ve developed meaningful relationships with my cars. Would love be too strong a word? Maybe, but I’m easily beyond the “friendly shake”.

A long relationship

My steeds are always parked with care, over serviced, and if there’s a blemish or bird excrement, I’m straight on it. If the offending bird poo cannot be remediated by my efforts, the car goes for machine polish (a very reasonable £30 for the bonnet on the BMW). But my relationship goes beyond just caring from them.

My best friend has been my long serving 2006 BMW 650i

Motor cars have been there for me in the good times and bad. Last summer on the trip to Classic Le Mans there was three of us; brother, old Mercedes and me. The car was very much part of the “journey” and required to be fed, watered, looked after and, as a personality in it’s own right, was the centre of many a conversation along the route.

Earlier in the year on a very difficult funeral day I chose to be soothed, comforted and cry, on my own, in the Lexus, rather than ride in the funeral stretch Jaguar. It was there for me.

And my best friend has been my long serving 2006 BMW 650i. It was bought third-hand from BMW in Hungerford. I had the pleasure of collecting it in Spring 2008.

After setting of home very early on a Sunday morning we bonded as we soared effortlessly up an empty M5 motorway, enjoying together the sun rise. Bliss. My own “Days like these” moment from opening scene from The Italian Job. Without the hard stop into a bulldozer, of course.

Still perfect despite its age

And the BMW is that rare thing, a reliable friend. I never, ever, worried about a breakdown or malfunction. In fact, at 40k miles, and 17 years old everything works, like the seamless hood operation (used twice a year).

It always starts, literally, on the button, and the ox-blood seats are as perfect as the day I bought it. The only let-down, which I’ve old you about before, was after standing for too long in hibernation a front spring snapped on exiting the garage.

I know what you’re asking, and I’m not sure I have your answer. Why have I sold it?
I guess the Aberdonian in me felt I couldn’t justify keeping it anymore. And in the last year I’ve found it expensive to own. Even driving like Nurse Phyllis from Call the Midwife I never managed more than 24mpg. The road tax is £650 per year and two rear tyres cost well over £500.

Buyer awareness

My decision, with a brand-new car coming in April, was to offer my friend to the market… not really certain that I’d sell, and quite prepared to keep the car.

Then there was the comedic gold of the sale. Alice and I were away for a few days, and a call came through while I was tucking into a fruit scone with a pre-announced Autotrader message that this was an enquiry on the car for sale.

Coffee, cakes and car sales

Sitting in a café I had a short and friendly conversation about the mileage and condition of soft-top. The caller then said he’d buy it. I asked where he was calling from; London came the reply. I expressed my incredulity that anyone would travel from London to Aberdeen to buy a car. But, I offered to send more pictures to him once home, and returned to the cream tea business in hand.

To my surprise an e-mail request popped into my in-box, and just before I sent some pictures I concluded, on account of the Eastern European e-mail address, that this was a scam and reported it as phishing. The scammer then had the audacity to call and ask for the photos I promised.

I told him as he was a scammer no photos were sent. After that the conversation went downhill. Then I realised that I’d misjudged this fellow and the situation as he, in quite a threatening manner asked, “Are you refusing to sell me car?” To cut a long story short, the fellow was a very genuine buyer.

I think there is a happy ending. I found easyJet flights and took the cost of these off the purchase price. I collected the large, slightly intimidating, Polish buyer and his partner at Dyce airport and drove them to our house.

An undervalued super-cruiser

We took a test drive together, payment made and the couple left. The buyer wanted a low mileage, original BMW 650i, and got one.

He was so happy. The car is being driven to Poland later in the year for a wedding, where “These cars are worth £23k” he told me, before pointing the inverse Bavarian colours nose badge South.

If you’re looking for an undervalued super cruiser, trawl the classifieds for a BMW 650. Blisteringly quick, aesthetically imposing, durable, a great drive, and rare. How can BMW M3s be so highly rated and expensive when the 650, well, isn’t either of those things? Of course, now mine has gone for a thumping loss per mile used, it’ll start appreciating.

Meanwhile, my good friend is off on another adventure, and a part of me thinks BMW 650 will enjoy the next crazy chapter of a doubtlessly long life. And maybe Polish conversations with the BMW will be as friendly as the King’s to his trees. I’d like that.