The day of decision

So we had one day to decide. On Monday evening we made this decision:
If the quick inspection does not reveal any major defects, we would buy the motorhome.

Somehow we were moving in a very strange in-between world. Because our plan for a big trip, which had been very vague just a few days ago, would very quickly become very concrete.
Tuesday 9:00 a.m. Ines drove to the office, Sebb drove to Gohlis for a test drive.
When Sebb got into the car with the salesman, there was a surprise: the vehicle had a steering wheel gearshift, which was something new, as we were only used to "normal" center gearshift or automatic. The salesman offered to drive the vehicle to the workshop and Sebb could drive it back. No sooner said than done. This gave Sebb the chance to get an impression of the camper in motion, the noise, handling and roadholding.

Sebb's aunt's friend took a lot of time, a really great guy, he spent almost an entire hour shining a light into every nook and cranny of the engine compartment, showing the rust spots on the bodywork that were visible under the car and kept coming back to the fact that the engine was leaking oil. In the hour that the car had been in his yard, it had lost at least 2 drops of oil. That didn't sound like much, but over time, it could be significant. He concluded that the vehicle was in good condition for its age, but something definitely needed to be done to ensure that it would be fun in the long term. First, the engine would have to be sealed again, as the oil from the crankshaft seal was probably running into the timing belt compartment and would sooner or later attack the timing belt. The rust spots on the underside of the car were not critical, but should soon be cleaned with a wire brush and covered with protective metal paint, and plenty of it if possible.

Sebb had decided to make the return trip and then make his decision. Ines had given him free rein. Neither of us were professionals, but relied on the honesty and expertise of the others.
The return journey was a revelation. First of all, there was room in the driver's seat, and by room, I meant ROOM, up, to the front, left and right. Sebb felt like he could stretch his arms out in all directions without hitting anything, wonderful. Secondly, the vehicle was of course an old diesel, which you could let roll along at idle, 2.5 litres sounded enormous, but only produced 55 KW, or 70 HP, but: where would you want to race in a vehicle like that? The clunky steering wheel gearshift was the point that caused the most problems, first gear was at the front and up, second at the front and down. Once the bus had started moving, it went quite well. At the traffic lights, however, quickly engaging first gear when the light was green was only met with protest from the gearbox on one or two occasions. The lesson was that you should engage first a little earlier, and with feeling and a little force. Nothing was going to happen quickly here. The reverse gear remained the problem child, behind and down, it always only worked on the third or fourth attempt... or the tenth. The trip back to Gohlis was uneventful, as desired. Sebb parked the vehicle almost in the same place where it had started before.

Another quick call to Ines and the decision was made.
The bus would be ours!