Driven crazy by the ordeal of buying a car

"Foreigners can't buy cars," laughed the used car salesman. I wondered if riding my bike, even in the rain, would be less hassle than buying a car. Many obstacles lie ahead.

First, I found a Honda online that required me to pay 2,000 yuan ($317) before seeing it. The buyer was quickly dismissed as a fraud, so our search continued.

"Foreigners can't buy cars" repeated the used car salesmen, seemingly in reference to the license lottery regulations. The truth is that foreigners are eligible to buy cars, albeit with slim odds.

We hoped, prayed and waited. My wife's name was drawn. Suddenly, our car hunt became serious.

We initially scouted new cars. Most Chinese pay cash for a new car purchase, something almost unheard of in the US. We'd need a loan, which we assumed would be easy to clinch with our 60 percent down payment.

Then, we encountered another obstacle. Only homeowners qualify for car loans, forcing us to settle for a used car. Lottery license winners see their right to buy their own set of wheels expire within six months of their drawing, so we'd have to buy quickly.

We toiled with long Web searches, visits to used car dealerships and test drives of vehicles. Alas, no success. Weeks passed. Come Saturday, our kids routinely asked: "Must we look at cars again?"

Last week, we finally found a nice 2008 Chevy. The search was over!

"Easy," I thought, recalling a past car purchase in the US. On that occasion, I registered for the vehicle's ownership during my one-hour lunch break. Unfortunately, this isn't the case in Beijing.

First, I had to transfer money at the bank. Now, the seller had our money, but the car was not in our name yet. Scary!

Fortunately, the seller knew the process. The next step involved us visiting the motor registry office. They wouldn't accept our housing registration. They needed a white registration form. Ours was pink because we live on a university campus. What followed was another two-hour round trip to the Haidain police work station to acquire the much desired white one.

After visiting the windows, we drove for 30 minutes to our next destination. There, we joined a deadlocked line of cars waiting for inspection. After my wife told inspectors we must get our kids, the line started moving. This wouldn't work in the US.

It turns out cars must have fire extinguishers. Our seller borrowed one from another car, returning it after inspection. "Ah," I sighed. "Only in China!"

We returned inside to take care of the paperwork. My Chinese-speaking wife again persuaded the attendants to hurry so we could get our children. This should have been the last stop before insurance, but foreigners must go elsewhere for license plates.

We barely had time to grab the plates, swing by the insurance company and get our kids. But this middle step offered yet more snags. Thankfully, a friend picked up our kids.

Insurance is different in China, but agreeable. American sellers transfer insurance to their next car, whereas in China the insurance policy stays with the car it's registered to cover. In a delightful twist, our seller had full coverage paid until September.

Finally, the process was over. We've rented cars in the past, so when we arrived home with our newly purchased Chevy, our four-year-old son asked: "So, when do we have to give it back?"

"Son," I sighed. "This one is ours. We're not giving it back." Best of all, this weekend we won't be looking at cars.