Just before we left Morocco we were approached by a 'likely' looking man who said he would buy all our cars and could we meet him just past the main crowd of dealers. He would pay Euros and offered a good price. Of course once across the border and in discussions with Robin, our nominated negotiator, he and his colleagues had all sorts of reasons why a fraction of that price is all that would be offered. Despite spending ages in discussion Robin felt that we were not going to get a worthwhile price and so we drove back towards the main throng and dived in...
Firstly, let’s be clear about it, there is no genuine market here and you soon realise it. What you have is a bunch of people largely working together within a frenzy of activity that suggests you have a chance of getting a better price if you try someone else. They are continually trying to put you off balance in your discussions: you are surrounded by people and surrounded by shouting; they agree to pay in Euros but have only Moroccan dirham; and they happily offer great prices in Mauritanian ouguiya but these we knew are unchangeable outside that country. They also suggest great prices to others in the group to try and start multiple negotiations and hence cause further confusion amongst us sellers as to where you are with things. 
There never seem to be people in front of you bargaining for the same car yet there is always someone ‘over here’ who they want you to talk to as they try to distract you and to drag you away from stalling negotiations. The only time you have two people in negotiation with you is when one is after one car and the other is – funnily enough – after the other three. And in both cases they are full of ‘reasons’ why the cars they do not want are not very good. It seems that the people with whom you are talking are never the people who want the car – there is always a need ‘to check with the boss’. In fact, there seems to be only one or two genuine buyers and the rest are ‘rent-a-crowd’. No matter what you do or with whom you negotiate it seems you can not get the price above a certain level despite the madness of shouting and money thrust towards you and the arguing between the dealers. But above all, these guys know that the border will shut in two or three hours and that you do not want to face a night trapped in no man’s land. Take a step back and you realise that they are, in fact, all in it together and they know they have you over a barrel.We argued the merits of right hand drive cars, of diesel against petrol, and how maintainable the cars were (they would use any excuse to justify lower prices; one of them tried to argue that as one of the cars was a diesel turbo it would be more difficult to run than a petrol car despite us having got it to the border and diesel being widely available). We bartered in English and Spanish and French using mobile phones to pump in the prices being sought and offered. And we worked in groups and as individuals selling cars singly or as a job lot. Eventually we had to settle on a price and make the sale. We made £600 for the Audi, somewhat more than the paltry £300 originally offered but not quite the £1000 plus that we understood it might be worth. But it is all money in the charity pot and we at least now had a fighting chance of getting back across the border before it shut. So, with the main aim of the trip now complete and everybody feeling somewhat frazzled from the previous three hours, we sauntered back towards the border and the last couple of hurdles: getting back into and then, ultimately, out of Morocco.
As it turned out getting in was relatively straightforward. As we moved through the various check points questions were raised about us having not gone into Mauritania so we just played along and told them we had not been allowed in as we had no visa. It seemed silly really as it was clear what we had done – and what we had done was not illegal so why even bring it up? We can only assume they were testing us to see if they could intimidate us into handing over a ‘cadeaux’. They got none. And neither did Mr Shady who was busy in his little office processing people leaving Morocco as we walked behind it on the way back in. Despite knowing we were on the correct side of the law the few yards from the open back door to his office and the border marker seemed like an eternity and it was a relief to step onto the road beyond the border that we had arrived at nearly eight hours earlier.
Finally it was a cramped four hour taxi ride back to our hotel (five in a four seater – two on the front seat) followed by a night out together with the other groups to celebrate our adventure, new friends and a safe trip home.
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