So, your van’s a wreck—older than my wardrobe and about as reliable as a chocolate
teapot. Last week, I hammered home how age turns your once-proud steed into a financial
liability faster than you can say “depreciation.” But age isn’t the only villain here. Today,
we’re tackling the second big hitter in the value-killing stakes: **mileage**. It’s the
odometer’s way of laughing in your face, a cruel little tally of every pothole, traffic jam, and
ill-fated trip to the tip your van’s endured. Buckle up, because this one’s going to sting.
Let’s start with the obvious: high mileage is bad news. It’s not rocket science—or even car
science, really. The more miles your van’s clocked, the more it’s been thrashed, bashed,
and generally abused. A van with 200,000 miles isn’t a vehicle—it’s a survivor, limping
along on borrowed time like a marathon runner who’s forgotten where the finish line is.
Every digit on that odometer is a battle scar, a testament to a life of hard graft, and buyers
—sensible ones, anyway—see it as a red flag the size of Wales. To them, high mileage
screams “I’m knackered,” and they’re not wrong. The engine’s wheezing, the gearbox is
groaning, and the suspension’s so shot it feels like driving over a cattle grid even on
smooth tarmac.
But it’s not just about the number—it’s how those miles were racked up. A van that’s spent
its life trundling down motorways at a steady 60 is in better nick than one that’s been stopstarting
through city traffic like a courier on a caffeine binge. Motorway miles are kinder—
less clutch wear, fewer gear changes, and a chance for the engine to stretch its legs
without choking on exhaust fumes. City miles, though? They’re brutal—every traffic light’s
a punch to the gut, every junction a death knell for the brakes. Your van’s history matters,
but good luck proving it to a buyer unless you’ve kept a logbook more detailed than James
May’s sock drawer.
Here’s the grim truth: mileage tanks value faster than a politician tanks credibility. A lowmileage
van—say, 50,000 miles—might still fetch a decent price, even if it’s a bit tatty.
Double that to 100,000, and you’re in bargain-bin territory. Hit 200,000? You’re lucky if it’s
worth more than a round of drinks—and that’s assuming it still runs. Buyers see high miles
and imagine a future of breakdowns, repair bills, and that sinking feeling when the AA man
shakes his head and mutters, “Mate, you’re stuffed.” They’re not wrong—it’s a gamble, and
most punters don’t fancy a flutter on a van that’s one cough away from the scrapyard.
But here’s where we at *webuybrokenvans* come in, riding to the rescue like knights in a
slightly dented Transit. We don’t care if your van’s got more miles than a space shuttle—
we’ll buy it anyway. Mileage is just one piece of the puzzle for us. We look at the whole
sorry picture—condition, make, model—and dig deeper than a buyer with a magnifying
glass. Sure, 250,000 miles might scare off the average Joe, but to us, it’s a challenge.
Maybe the engine’s shot, but the body’s solid. Maybe the gearbox is toast, but the seats
are salvageable. We see value where others see despair, and we’ve got the cash to prove
it.
Think about it: every mile your van’s racked up is another reason to ditch it before it dies
completely. Why let it sit there, mocking you from the driveway like a smug ex, when you
can turn it into money? Get online, punch in your reg, and let us give you a valuation that
factors in those punishing miles without punishing you. It’s not going to make you a
millionaire—don’t be daft—but it’ll be fair, and it’ll be quick. Your van’s been around the
block—literally—so give it a dignified exit and pocket some dosh instead.
Mileage might be a value killer, but we’re the antidote. Don’t let those numbers scare you
off—get a valuation and see what we can do. It’s easier than checking the oil, and a damn
sight more rewarding.
