The subject of personalised number plates tends to provoke strong opinions. Some people love them and others literally hate anyone who is ‘stupid enough’ or ‘vane enough’ to want one.
Many years ago now, in 1993 I think,I was working in the City of London in the middle of a large trading floor of an Investment Bank. The place was a sea of flashing lights and computer screens. My job involved transacting share sales and purchases for large Investment Institutions and the ‘traders’ who sat around the edge of the floor either accessed the broader market or took specific risk on to their own books. If I did a deal it would be my initials that would signal the counter party, not my client. As such many times in a day DGE (Dennis George Elliott) would be inscribed as part of electronic record keeping.
One trader, whose name I have forgotten but who is guilty of provoking my interest in motor bikes approached me one day. ‘Have you seen The Sunday Times’ he said. ‘Err maybe what are you referring to’ I responded. ‘The number plate section’ he said ‘your number is there you must buy it’!! I looked in the paper he was holding and there it was DGE 1 £2000. I was at first amused but I resolved not to buy it. Why be flash I thought. Any way after badgering me for the best part of a week I finally picked up the phone and made a bid, £1700 I think it was. The deal was done.
Amazingly the following day the person who had sold it to me called up and told me someone else was interested and would pay £5000 for the plate as he had just bought a new Porsche. The man was totally honourable as he stuck to the deal he had done with me and I wondered what to do next as the prospective buyer’s telephone number had been given to me. I took advice and rang the man asking £7500 for the plate. ‘Too much’ he said and that was that.
I was unsure what to do with the plate as I was not ‘brave enough’ to put it on my main car. Instead I bought a totally dilapidated Land Rover, which I henceforth called ‘my station car’ and put the plate on that. It was green, battered with moss growing in the window runners. It smoked and belched but it never let me down and I felt that having a personalised plate on such an old banger was fine.
A year or two later the land rover was upgraded to a better one and the plate found its way on to that vehicle. This time it did not feel quite right.
Several years later I had a proper mid life crisis. I am ashamed to admit this but I bought myself a Porsche 911. The number plate did not go on this vehicle of course! However proving all sense had left me I bought a second Porsche one of the first Cayennes. In some ways the car was amazing but in others it was utter rubbish but I am afraid to say that I put DGE1 on the car. Oh dear!. I was stopped in central London soon after buying the car by Police for no other reason that they wanted to have a close look at this monstrous looking vehicle. They were very nice about my car and apologised for stopping me. What could I say?
Shortly after purchasing the car, which was incidentally a death trap in snow on normal road tyres, I went up to London with Liz to watch a friend racing in The London Marathon. Now for some reason we got a cheap weekend package in the Savoy Hotel, parking included. For those who do not know the approach road to The Savoy is the only road in GB where you drive on the right. The short approach to the front door allows visitors to park close to the door. I drove up in a highly polished Porsche Cayenne with DGE1 on the front and guess what. There was much commotion. The head doorman summoned extra aides and a great fuss was made of us both-excruciatingly embarrassing. ‘We will park your car” the doorman offered and I fumbled in my pocket for an appropriate note.
Later in the evening Liz and I set off for dinner in a nearby Covent Garden restaurant and as we left the hotel there, on a sort of dais to the left of the front door, was my car. Facing forward and looking very smart. I was honestly mortified. Out to dinner and few glasses of wine shaped my opinion such that when we turned into the approach road I was looking expectantly for my car. A picture was planned. It had gone!
Time and the loss of a small fortune on both my Porsches cause me to see sense and I next put the number plate on a Citroen 2CV van i owned. Everyone loves a 2 CV, well nearly everyone, but on this dark Blue van it looked right. Thing was I hardly used the van instead it sat under a tree gathering mould and moss. One day I thought I really must put this plate ‘on retention’ before the van rotted. Unfortunately the MOT had expired on the van and The DVLA told me the only way to retain the number was to get the van running and tested. Nightmare as no-one was interested in the work and most said it was hopeless anyway. Fortunately one day I found a man in Seaton, near where we lived, who was a Citroen enthusiast and he undertook to refurbish the vehicle which he did for a reasonable price and after passing the MOT my plate was safe and retained at The DVLA where it sat for many years.
We are probably talking 2007/8 now and one day a woman from a company that specialises in ‘treasured plates’ rang me up asking me if I was interested in selling my plate. I said yes but only at a very high price I won’t mention it here cos it might make those reading rather jealous regarding my fortune. Anyway every year from then on she would ring me. Sometimes with a bid for the plate or sometimes just to ask if I was still keen to sell. I was hoping that a Premier League footballer would appear with the appropriate initials. No luck. DGE is the Stock Exchange symbol for Diageo one of the worlds largest drinks groups. I wrote to them trying to convince them just how good their corporate limousine would look when it picked up dignitaries at Heathrow Airport but they were not interested.
Last week a call came again from the same woman who I have spoken to every year who asked me was I still keen to sell at my price. I felt I ought to be a gentleman and so I said ‘Yes’. The plate had in fact found its way on to my very smart VW Transporter in recent years as I felt the my old age allowed me to be as flash as I liked. I am sure it provoked many a negative comment. One man loved it. He is called Dougie and he works at the local recycling centre. His initials are DGE and he loves Transporters so when ever I visit the tip we have a chat, he is a delightful young man. One day I heard myself telling him that if no-one came to buy my plate in time I would give it to him. He was delighted of course but I am afraid he is going to be very disappointed. You have guessed it some one has offered the full price for the number plate and the transaction is going through. I imagine the buyer will be Russian as thinking about it a lot of Russians have names beginning with D or G. I have probably given the thing away but no point being greedy.
DGE 1 has been a good friend. On occasions it has made me feel good, on others utterly embarrassed but I am grateful for all the emotions it has generated. Good bye old friend I wonder if i will see you again one day on the road.
Tales of a Life Well Lived 