Well, congratulations—you’ve made it to the final lap of this market-versus-scrap saga,
and I’m frankly amazed you’re still here. We’ve covered market value, that pie-in-the-sky
dream of what some mug might pay for your broken van, and scrap value, the gritty reality
of cash for its corpse. We’ve even wrestled with the choice between them—market if it’s
got a pulse, scrap if it’s a goner. Now, it’s time to pull back the curtain and show you **how
we at *webuybrokenvans* determine value**, because unlike your mate Dave down the
pub, we don’t just pluck numbers out of thin air. This is precision engineering—well,
precision van-buying, anyway—so buckle up.
Let’s get one thing straight: our valuation isn’t some half-baked guess scribbled on a beer
mat after a night out. It’s a proper process, built on real-world data and a dash of our own
alchemy. First, we start with the basics—your van’s DNA. Make and model? A Ford
Transit’s a golden goose; some obscure Eastern European rust-bucket’s more of a lame
duck. Age? Older than my wardrobe means it’s shedding value like dandruff. Mileage? If
it’s clocked more than a space shuttle, it’s not winning any prizes. Condition? If it’s a
dented, wheezing mess that’d make a mechanic cry, we’re not kidding ourselves about its
prospects.
Next, we dive into the market—like proper sleuths, but with less tweed and more grease.
We scour what similar vans are fetching—working ones on AutoTrader, broken ones on
eBay, even the dodgy Facebook groups where people flog everything from old fridges to
their nan’s false teeth. A five-year-old Sprinter with a dodgy clutch might still pull a grand;
your 15-year-old heap with a blown engine? Not so much. We adjust for the faults—every
dent, every groan, every whiff of despair—and peg a market value that’s realistic, not
fantasy. It’s not about what you wish it was worth; it’s what someone, somewhere, might
actually pay.
Then there’s the scrap side—because sometimes your van’s deader than disco. We check
metal prices—steel’s bouncing around £150-£200 a ton in mid-2025—and weigh up your
van’s bulk. A chunky Luton might tip the scales at two tonnes, netting you a few hundred
quid. But it’s not just weight; usable parts like a decent battery or a gearbox that’s not
completely toast can bump it up. We’re like vultures with a calculator, picking over the
carcass for anything worth salvaging. Scrap’s the floor—market’s the ceiling—and we
figure out where your van lands.
Here’s the magic bit: we blend it all together—market trends, scrap rates, and our own
knack for spotting value in the rubble. Our system’s faster than a V8 on full chat and
smarter than your average car salesman—which, admittedly, isn’t saying much. Punch in
your reg online, spill the beans on its sorry state, and we’ll spit out a number that’s fairer
than a judge with a clean record. It might lean market if there’s life left, or scrap if it’s a lost
cause—either way, you’re getting paid.
Think about it: why faff about with guesswork when we’ve got this down to a science? Your
van’s not getting any prettier, and the longer it sits there, the more it’s worth jack squat.
Get online, type in your reg, and let us do the heavy lifting. It’s quicker than a pit stop at
Silverstone and a damn sight more profitable than arguing with Dave. We’ll tell you what
it’s worth—market, scrap, or somewhere in between—and back it with cash. Don’t let it
rust away—cash in now.
