COVID’s over, but used-car dealers still have Perth by the wheel nuts

When international trade ground to a halt during COVID, with no new vehicles arriving on our shores, the price of secondhand jalopies in WA went through the roof.

During the peak of the pandemic, Western Australia had the longest wait time in the country for a new car – around 317 days, according to Price My Car.

From 2020-2023 the cost of pre-owned cars in Australia rose by more than 20 per cent, with the more sought-after SUVs selling for almost 50 per cent more.

And as the borders slammed shut, sandgropers wanted burly beasts to traverse the state – so car dealers had us by the wheel nuts.

So, what’s it like buying a pre-owned ‘motor’ now? I can confirm that after six weeks of scouring caryards around Perth, it remained such a profoundly corrosive and undesirable experience that I Googled Amish communities near me.

On Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, vee-hiccles have always ranked low for me but our loyal Holden Astra, which for some time had been defying all the universe’s known physical laws by still running, was headed for the great wrecking yard in the sky. Either that or a quiet roadside, with an ABANDONED sticker across the windscreen and an ibis nesting inside.

So we set our budget, which ruled out most sets of wheels built in the past decade.

According to a recent report from the Australian Automotive Dealer Association and AutoGrab, WA experienced the smallest drop in prices in the country post-pandemic, around 11.2 per cent.

One of the main reasons used car prices haven’t decelerated is global vehicle production around the globe is still below pre-pandemic levels.

They’re still selling for 67 per cent of their original value, only slightly down from a high of 75 per cent during the height of COVID.

I began with the internet. Within minutes of inquiring about an automobile online an independent caryard contacted me.

We’re all worried someone’s going to sell us a lemon; car salespeople are usually ranked among the least trusted professions (just ahead of journalists) and those I met didn’t buck the stereotype. Even I could see some of the four wheel-bangers they were peddling were more or less held together with coathanger wire and gaffer tape.

In one such homogeneous wasteland of pre-loved vehicles in a tired eastern suburbs industrial area, the salesman charged towards me as though acutely aware the used-car gold rush could not last forever – though it may not have benefited him that much anyway given his uniform (board shorts, cut-off T-shirt and thongs).

Before he could begin any spiel about the four-wheel drive’s former life with a 76-year-old nun, I forestalled him by confessing my lack of knowledge about vehicles, hoping to disarm him into reciprocal honesty.

It worked too well. He informed me he used to be a DJ at a strip club. Given it was early in the morning and I looked like a less refined version of Gardening Australia’s Costa Georgiadis, he must’ve mistaken me for a regular at his shows.

It looked like someone had graffitied the paddock basher’s interior with peanut butter.

And I hadn’t driven 200 feet when the air-con started screeching like a cat was trapped inside.

The salesman reassured me it would be an easy fix, before asking me to head back to the caryard, perhaps fearing the engine would burst into flames at any moment.

I don’t want to mistrust other humans just trying to get by, but there must be a precedent; the WA government is introducing new regulations to stop car dealers selling a dodgy car. Shonky yards can be fined up to $5000 if they do not notify a customer the vehicle they’re buying has been written off.

And the private market is flooded by young men selling cars on behalf of a suspicious number of ailing mothers.

So I did the unthinkable. I went to a major dealership.

Within seconds of stepping onto the polished concrete floor a young David Beckham type was corralling me towards a vehicle.

Moments later, we were traversing a leafy inner-city suburb giggling about our favourite cheeses.

The SUV was immaculate and just over 10 years old. It had only one previous owner.

Before I had a chance to ask, ‘where is the handbrake?’ I was thrust in front of another person apparently weeping because he couldn’t give me a warranty on a car from the early 2010s.

I gave an ambivalent shrug before he leapt up like an Evangelist preacher spying Jesus looking at a Tesla on the showroom floor and told me that today was indeed my lucky day. He could offer me a warranty from an external party!

I signed something to make him go away, probably thereby making a sizeable donation to his son’s lacrosse team.

In another room I filled out finance forms harder to decipher than the Enigma machine.

I know, you don’t have to be the Barefoot Investor to work out that getting finance through a car dealership isn’t the smartest move, but I’ve had my new wheels three weeks now and so far, nothing has fallen off.

Hopefully they’ll last until car production levels return to normal and used-car prices settle.

Or even until the federal government finalises its plan to mandate car pollution caps, which could change the local car market conditions again. These are interesting times – pray for me, because I’ve only just found that handbrake.

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