Having spent the evening yet again studying E36 M3s for sale on the internet, a chap called Chris Kelly has just rudely interrupted my dreaming by returning my call from this morning. What? Who? Holy crap – this is the guy selling the E30 M3. Seems like a nice enough chap, more than willing to talk about the car and is extremely keen for me to come to see it, which of course is suddenly my prime reason for existence on this planet. The car is in his powered and lit garage near Winchester, and we agree I’ll head straight down.

I try to locate Ian Haynes for his rust spotting laser vision, but it is a bit late and with zero notice, I’m not surprised I can’t get hold of him. Still, I’m damned if that’ll stop me from seeing it tonight.

Chris calls back. Hmm, I wonder what he wants. “I’ve just tried to start it and the battery is flat. I don’t suppose you’ve got some jump leads?” Is this a good sign (car in storage) or a bad sign (knackered battery / alternator / generally unloved?). Who knows? “Yes I have, I’ll chuck them in the boot.”

Damn derv burner is low on fuel. This happens about once a lifetime and the bloody thing does it when I want to go to see an M3. I stop at Sainsburys to top up the diesel reserves and Ian returns my call. Quite reasonably he can’t get across to Winchester tonight, but he’s willing to come an inspect it by himself tomorrow if appropriate, and is willing to guide me by telephone in an hour or so when I’m with the car. Good.

I instruct the derv burner with Chris’ address and spin the Garrett turbo up. No Helga, 40 miles won’t take that long this evening…

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