Returning to the cars after a few days away from them was a dreaded task. Would they still be there? Would they work? What would be growing in them? How much was the parking? What ever it was, we had to return. A few checks of the cars, and a good scrubbing of Nail Varnish remover in the Mondeo and we were on our way. The last leg of the Journey was like all the other days. Only I was directing now, and strangly it was the shortest journey we did. We arrived in Calais a full 6 hours early, but looking at the state of the cars, its a wonder it was 6 hours the other way round. Arriving in Dover, it was now dark. Jokes went round about how long the cars would last before they got pulled over, but luckily neither one did. The Calibra soon left the Mondeo behind.
Hitting traffic near reading, it was the longest we’d been stationary in the 6 days we’d spent in the cars. Half ahour last and the speedo in the Calibra was reading 3 figures again. Entering the last 5 miles of our journey, the Calibra started miss firing, and feeling very sick. A few miles later, she luckly recovered. We arrived home 12 hours after leaving Amsterdam, exhilarated, not at what we had done, but the fact both cars had made it, even in their current states.
And so, including Wales and England, thats 15 countries in 6 days. Proof that old cars are better than you’d first imagine.
Tuesday, 3 February 2009
Day 5 -- Munich to Amsterdam
This was the last but one stage of our journey. The big one. The one the cars needed to be on top form for, and the simple fact of the matter was, neither car was. We returned to see a soaking floor by the front of the Calibra, and a taped up Mondeo. I’ll be honest, I couldn’t see the Calibra starting or the Mondeo making it. Even if mechanically the Mondeo had survived, the bumper was held on with tape, which could have easily come off and cause the Mondeo to have a major crash.
We loaded up and started our journey. Within 5 minutes the Calibra was a kettle, spewing steam from the bonnet shut lines. It really was a scene written for top gear, and I’ll be honest, when you know you’ve got no money left, seeing your only hope of home steaming away isn’t something to calm your nerves. Still the boys, having started driving around found confidence in the cars. Pulling over at a garage, Mark Evans had an idea that the fan wasn’t cutting in on the Calibra, causing the overheating problem. A quick 5 minutes under the bonnect, and a bit a of wire later, we left Munich with the fan on permently and a very cool Calibra, temperature wise of course (I doubt a batman painted £50 Calibra would ever be considered fashion).
Heading towards Amsterdam, the sheer journey size soon became apparent. We drove, hard, for a very long time. Pulling over at a petrol station I took to the wheel of the Mondeo. The journey, I’ll be honest became a bit of a blur, driving quickly for a very long time, memories merge very easily. I was very aware of the speed limits going into Amsterdam, so lost the Calibra a few times, but after after a few minutes at 120 in the de-resricted zones had us back in a convoy, and the boys nervous. Reaching Amsterdam, the rumors of it all looking the same become all to evident to us. We had no idea where we were going, no sat nav, no map, no idea. Driving round and nearly killing every bike we saw we eventually found the Hostel. Mark asked me to follow him to put the cars in a long stay car park, and so I did, driving the Mondeo alone for the first time.
We drove round for about an hour, up one way streets the wrong way and even down cycle lanes, until, when Mark eventually threw in the towel to go home, the found the long stay car park, with an enterance sign about the size of a postage stamp. Pulling in, Mark wound down the passenger window and got his ticket into the car park. Luxeries of the Mondeo didn’t include windows that wound down, so I had to get out to get the ticket, forgetting the barrier would go up as soon as I had the ticket. Running back round the Mondeo screamed into the car park just in time. We parked up, and we back to the hostel, leaving as soon as we arrived for the final meet with everyone. A KFC was the final meal of the rally due to the late hour, and a quick expensive drink was the end of the rally. We got back to the hostel, tired, exhausted but happy the fact we’d done it, we’d made it Amsterdam and more importantly we didn’t have to drive anywhere tomorrow.
We loaded up and started our journey. Within 5 minutes the Calibra was a kettle, spewing steam from the bonnet shut lines. It really was a scene written for top gear, and I’ll be honest, when you know you’ve got no money left, seeing your only hope of home steaming away isn’t something to calm your nerves. Still the boys, having started driving around found confidence in the cars. Pulling over at a garage, Mark Evans had an idea that the fan wasn’t cutting in on the Calibra, causing the overheating problem. A quick 5 minutes under the bonnect, and a bit a of wire later, we left Munich with the fan on permently and a very cool Calibra, temperature wise of course (I doubt a batman painted £50 Calibra would ever be considered fashion).
Heading towards Amsterdam, the sheer journey size soon became apparent. We drove, hard, for a very long time. Pulling over at a petrol station I took to the wheel of the Mondeo. The journey, I’ll be honest became a bit of a blur, driving quickly for a very long time, memories merge very easily. I was very aware of the speed limits going into Amsterdam, so lost the Calibra a few times, but after after a few minutes at 120 in the de-resricted zones had us back in a convoy, and the boys nervous. Reaching Amsterdam, the rumors of it all looking the same become all to evident to us. We had no idea where we were going, no sat nav, no map, no idea. Driving round and nearly killing every bike we saw we eventually found the Hostel. Mark asked me to follow him to put the cars in a long stay car park, and so I did, driving the Mondeo alone for the first time.
We drove round for about an hour, up one way streets the wrong way and even down cycle lanes, until, when Mark eventually threw in the towel to go home, the found the long stay car park, with an enterance sign about the size of a postage stamp. Pulling in, Mark wound down the passenger window and got his ticket into the car park. Luxeries of the Mondeo didn’t include windows that wound down, so I had to get out to get the ticket, forgetting the barrier would go up as soon as I had the ticket. Running back round the Mondeo screamed into the car park just in time. We parked up, and we back to the hostel, leaving as soon as we arrived for the final meet with everyone. A KFC was the final meal of the rally due to the late hour, and a quick expensive drink was the end of the rally. We got back to the hostel, tired, exhausted but happy the fact we’d done it, we’d made it Amsterdam and more importantly we didn’t have to drive anywhere tomorrow.
Day 4 – Munich – written on the road to Amsterdam.
Today things really did take a turn for worse. Leaving Bratislava, the first thing was an emergency repair job on the Mondeo’s brakes. Once they were sorted, everyone saddled up, Craig behind the wheel of the Mondeo, Mark the Calibra. Leaving Bratislava was a good indication of what was to come. The brakes on the Mondeo were working much better for about 5 minutes then reverted back to the shake-to-stop ways we’d all got used to. Every stop in the Mondeo now resulted in a slight bump. Mark was thrapping the Calibra round the streets now, and Craig obviously followed suit. Screaming round the city, tires lit at every bend, we met with Adam and the other teams.
At the services, Craig slammed the car up a gutter, immediately ripping a hole in the wall, resulting in a tire change.
From the city we nailed it towards our first destination, the Church from the film, Sound of Music. Except as we arrived, and for that matter left, the only noise bouncing off the hills was the Calibra’s and Mondeo’s screeching tires. Mark did a burnout as we left, filling the car with smoke and waking the entire town. We left, quickly, as the boys attitude to everything.
Entering Munich, I started to type up entries for the last few days, while the bumps from behind got harder with each stop. We lost our leader, event organiser Adam, so we pulled into a side street. As I carried on typing, noticing the yellow Mondeo pull to the side of the Calibra, the partical jokes carried on coming. Luke jumped out the Mondeo, slamming a door against our car, and opened the boot. Mark jumped out, slammed it shut again, getting a bit annoyed.
As I wrote “...who spent the night in a single bed with Craig, had park in the only available space...” Noise of the Mondeo Engine being revved alerted me to Craig smashing into the Calibra in reverse, adding more revs to rip both the Mondeo and the Calibra’s bumpers off. This did not go down well with Mark at all.
“What the fuck are you doing you stupid bell end? Are you completely retarded?” he bellowed leaning out the side of the car. He soon jumped out to try and sort everything out, as was his nature earning him the nick name Dad. Gaffer taping both bumpers back together, the mood was still high however I sence that things had gone to far lingered between a few people at times.
As the cars got taped back together, water under the Calibra and steam from under the bonnet began to appear. The Calibra was about to break down, big style.
And then to make things worse the Police turned up. Ross dealt with them, Mark sorted to Calibra, and the rest general laugh about the whole thing. Driving to a underground car park, the mood got more serious.
That night, many ideas were talked about what we’d do if the worst thing happened. How to destroy the cars, get to Amsterdam and get home.
At the services, Craig slammed the car up a gutter, immediately ripping a hole in the wall, resulting in a tire change.
From the city we nailed it towards our first destination, the Church from the film, Sound of Music. Except as we arrived, and for that matter left, the only noise bouncing off the hills was the Calibra’s and Mondeo’s screeching tires. Mark did a burnout as we left, filling the car with smoke and waking the entire town. We left, quickly, as the boys attitude to everything.
Entering Munich, I started to type up entries for the last few days, while the bumps from behind got harder with each stop. We lost our leader, event organiser Adam, so we pulled into a side street. As I carried on typing, noticing the yellow Mondeo pull to the side of the Calibra, the partical jokes carried on coming. Luke jumped out the Mondeo, slamming a door against our car, and opened the boot. Mark jumped out, slammed it shut again, getting a bit annoyed.
As I wrote “...who spent the night in a single bed with Craig, had park in the only available space...” Noise of the Mondeo Engine being revved alerted me to Craig smashing into the Calibra in reverse, adding more revs to rip both the Mondeo and the Calibra’s bumpers off. This did not go down well with Mark at all.
“What the fuck are you doing you stupid bell end? Are you completely retarded?” he bellowed leaning out the side of the car. He soon jumped out to try and sort everything out, as was his nature earning him the nick name Dad. Gaffer taping both bumpers back together, the mood was still high however I sence that things had gone to far lingered between a few people at times.
As the cars got taped back together, water under the Calibra and steam from under the bonnet began to appear. The Calibra was about to break down, big style.
And then to make things worse the Police turned up. Ross dealt with them, Mark sorted to Calibra, and the rest general laugh about the whole thing. Driving to a underground car park, the mood got more serious.
That night, many ideas were talked about what we’d do if the worst thing happened. How to destroy the cars, get to Amsterdam and get home.
Day 3 – Bratislava – on the road to Munich
Woke up, amazingly feeling alright and before anyone else was up, after passing out the night before. Feeling bright and not shite we all began to make our way back down to the cars which Ross, who spent the night in a single bed with Craig, had park in the only available space...
[--- Craig crashed into us ---]
... which was about a mile away. Still the cars are still in one piece, and drivable and still on the street. As Ross was parking, the police rocked up and put the car that was next to him on the back on the low-loader and left. So once we had all made it back to the cars, hoping they were still going to be there, it was decided that we were all going to have breakfast, and McDonalds back by the hostel was the decision. Which me, Ross and Craig decided was to far to walk to drove the Mondeo back to the high street for food. While we were sat eating, the topic of conversation moved towards the driving laws, and how Prague’s police don’t accept any alcohol in the body when driving. This, I ahve to admit, made me really nervous as when I was eating, I was beginning to feel more and more drunk again with each bite I took. This I didn’t relay back to the lads, as I really wanted to drive again. The Mondeo was feeling really bad as well. Worse than me. Everything was worse.
As we were driving along, Chris (Paine) started drawing on the dash board with a permanent marker. As a result, by the time we’d reached our challenge point for the day (the Church of bones, Bratislava) the entire inside of the car, and I mean every last inch of it, was covered in cartoon cocks and typical welsh boy sayings. I’m not going to write what it says on the driver’s side sun visor as it’ll probably offend everyone who reads this. But its the funniest thing you’ll probably see in a Mk1 Mondeo.
The drive today though was fantastic, lovely roads, terrific views and some great mates to laugh about it all. They’ve coined a nice name, McLovin’, so I feel well involved with them all now. Paine craped himself on a few bends, and when a lorry pulled out in front of us at 110 mph on the motorway. The brakes went past the bone-shaker to just a hope. We did stop, luckily, and then swapped drivers and I got in the Calibra, when we neared the city. By the time we got there, the lads in the Calibra were getting a bit ratty with each other, so we eventually found a car park, in the dodgest part of town and waited for Mark and Howie to return with directions. We all piled in the Mondeo, sketched about a random guy by the cars, then had a giggling fit with Craig and Paine.
“Get in the fucking back?”“What?”“Get in the fucking back of the fucking car?”
That was the return of Mark to the Calibra, and we soon we’re at the Hostel, changed and out again. The night ended in McDonalds, after a really annoying but nice meal somewhere with the twat of a tour guide, and then a cocktail bar under the belt.
[--- Craig crashed into us ---]
... which was about a mile away. Still the cars are still in one piece, and drivable and still on the street. As Ross was parking, the police rocked up and put the car that was next to him on the back on the low-loader and left. So once we had all made it back to the cars, hoping they were still going to be there, it was decided that we were all going to have breakfast, and McDonalds back by the hostel was the decision. Which me, Ross and Craig decided was to far to walk to drove the Mondeo back to the high street for food. While we were sat eating, the topic of conversation moved towards the driving laws, and how Prague’s police don’t accept any alcohol in the body when driving. This, I ahve to admit, made me really nervous as when I was eating, I was beginning to feel more and more drunk again with each bite I took. This I didn’t relay back to the lads, as I really wanted to drive again. The Mondeo was feeling really bad as well. Worse than me. Everything was worse.
As we were driving along, Chris (Paine) started drawing on the dash board with a permanent marker. As a result, by the time we’d reached our challenge point for the day (the Church of bones, Bratislava) the entire inside of the car, and I mean every last inch of it, was covered in cartoon cocks and typical welsh boy sayings. I’m not going to write what it says on the driver’s side sun visor as it’ll probably offend everyone who reads this. But its the funniest thing you’ll probably see in a Mk1 Mondeo.
The drive today though was fantastic, lovely roads, terrific views and some great mates to laugh about it all. They’ve coined a nice name, McLovin’, so I feel well involved with them all now. Paine craped himself on a few bends, and when a lorry pulled out in front of us at 110 mph on the motorway. The brakes went past the bone-shaker to just a hope. We did stop, luckily, and then swapped drivers and I got in the Calibra, when we neared the city. By the time we got there, the lads in the Calibra were getting a bit ratty with each other, so we eventually found a car park, in the dodgest part of town and waited for Mark and Howie to return with directions. We all piled in the Mondeo, sketched about a random guy by the cars, then had a giggling fit with Craig and Paine.
“Get in the fucking back?”“What?”“Get in the fucking back of the fucking car?”
That was the return of Mark to the Calibra, and we soon we’re at the Hostel, changed and out again. The night ended in McDonalds, after a really annoying but nice meal somewhere with the twat of a tour guide, and then a cocktail bar under the belt.
Day 2 – Prague – written on road to towards Munich.
Mondeo is now looking a lot less worse for wear, not helped when the Calibra had an ABS fit and Mark slammed it into the back of the Mondeo. The rear bumper now has a big crack in it with gaffer tape to hold it, if it is possible on that car. The roads into Prague didn’t inspire confidence. The lack of street lamps was the least of our worries, some places literal had bare bases of the roads exposed. It felt a lot like we were heading into the middle of nowhere, where the economy had long gone. With Ross behind the wheel of the Mondeo, it was something you wouldn’t be able sleep through. Which is exactly what I managed to do. For some reason on this trip, I’ve been sleeping at every available moment.
As for the cars, the Calibra is working fine, apart from the occasional hiccup with the ABS. The Mondeo is a different matter. It’s becoming such a state, that on the roads into Prague, the ones which felt like they had been laid when Jesus walked the earth, the Mondeo fitted straight in. The brakes don’t stop the car; they more shake it until eventually it loses speed. The accelerator doesn’t actually make the car go any faster, more just makes it louder, and only to the people inside the car. 2 of the windows don’t work, the gearbox feels like it’s full of honey, the steering is about as tight as a girl after Craig has finished with her and the heater isn’t working. On the bright side, she starts first time everytime, so I suppose it’s not that bad. You know, ignoring all of the broken things, which is more or less the entire car; it’s getting it us through countries.
I can’t really remember much about day 2 of Rally Europe for a couple of reasons. One was because I’ve slept through it, and the other is because in the process of getting to know the lads better, I may have got very drunk. That night was absolutely fantastic though, beginning to feel like one of them, going out and generally being young, something I’ve waited a long time for.
Without a shadow of a doubt, this is the best thing I’ve done in my life. Meeting 7 welsh mentals, prating around in worthless motors, not knowing if they are going to make it, blasting through countries to get drunk in yet another town, another country.
As for the cars, the Calibra is working fine, apart from the occasional hiccup with the ABS. The Mondeo is a different matter. It’s becoming such a state, that on the roads into Prague, the ones which felt like they had been laid when Jesus walked the earth, the Mondeo fitted straight in. The brakes don’t stop the car; they more shake it until eventually it loses speed. The accelerator doesn’t actually make the car go any faster, more just makes it louder, and only to the people inside the car. 2 of the windows don’t work, the gearbox feels like it’s full of honey, the steering is about as tight as a girl after Craig has finished with her and the heater isn’t working. On the bright side, she starts first time everytime, so I suppose it’s not that bad. You know, ignoring all of the broken things, which is more or less the entire car; it’s getting it us through countries.
I can’t really remember much about day 2 of Rally Europe for a couple of reasons. One was because I’ve slept through it, and the other is because in the process of getting to know the lads better, I may have got very drunk. That night was absolutely fantastic though, beginning to feel like one of them, going out and generally being young, something I’ve waited a long time for.
Without a shadow of a doubt, this is the best thing I’ve done in my life. Meeting 7 welsh mentals, prating around in worthless motors, not knowing if they are going to make it, blasting through countries to get drunk in yet another town, another country.
Day 1 – Frankfurt Hostel, German, 12.15 am.
Today I have fallen in love, with a Vauxhall. Driving today was really good, we finally hit to the road hard and began rally Europe for real. As usual, things didn’t quiet go to plan, but we’ve arrived, so the ending is what you’d expect, but I’m hoping you’re going to read on for the journey.
So, after the awful sleep last night behind the wheel of the Mondeo, I stayed pretty much there for the rest of the day. Heading to the meet place, we all finally met Adam and the other competitors. Well when I say competitors, I mean competitor. I was expecting a drove of cars and teams all ready and waiting for the challenge, but what was reality turned out to be one other team. We did eventually meet another team in mid afternoon, but still 4 teams were far below my expectations. Still it means we can all stay in a convoy and have a great trip. Which is exactly how things are panning out.
I’ve settled down a lot more now with the lads as we begin to get to know each other, and after a good days driving, I think we’re all not only knackered but on the same wavelength. Only one thing soiled my day today, and that was a bastard German speed camera.
Driving down a German motorway, I was following event organiser Adam in formation. We had no map or sat nav so it was essential we kept up. So when both I and he got flashed by what looked like a sign, we both looked on in shock, and naturally slowed right down. I’m hoping and praying I’m not going to get anything through the port about it, and if I do, that it’s only a fine, and not points.
My day has been made complete though by seeing the lovely Calibra driving along side by side to the Mondy’, and I’m completely smitten by it now. I have to get one.
Speaking of things I have to do, I have to repeat this trip with Adam, Tom and Mike. It would just be epic, and create a great T.V piece. Hopefully in a Calibra. Hopefully very soon.From a very noisy, yet pleasant hostel in Frankfurt, Germany
So, after the awful sleep last night behind the wheel of the Mondeo, I stayed pretty much there for the rest of the day. Heading to the meet place, we all finally met Adam and the other competitors. Well when I say competitors, I mean competitor. I was expecting a drove of cars and teams all ready and waiting for the challenge, but what was reality turned out to be one other team. We did eventually meet another team in mid afternoon, but still 4 teams were far below my expectations. Still it means we can all stay in a convoy and have a great trip. Which is exactly how things are panning out.
I’ve settled down a lot more now with the lads as we begin to get to know each other, and after a good days driving, I think we’re all not only knackered but on the same wavelength. Only one thing soiled my day today, and that was a bastard German speed camera.
Driving down a German motorway, I was following event organiser Adam in formation. We had no map or sat nav so it was essential we kept up. So when both I and he got flashed by what looked like a sign, we both looked on in shock, and naturally slowed right down. I’m hoping and praying I’m not going to get anything through the port about it, and if I do, that it’s only a fine, and not points.
My day has been made complete though by seeing the lovely Calibra driving along side by side to the Mondy’, and I’m completely smitten by it now. I have to get one.
Speaking of things I have to do, I have to repeat this trip with Adam, Tom and Mike. It would just be epic, and create a great T.V piece. Hopefully in a Calibra. Hopefully very soon.From a very noisy, yet pleasant hostel in Frankfurt, Germany
Day 1. Calias car park, 8-45 am
We woke up today in a car park in the actually cars. More or less 12 straight hours in these two old bangers. Last night, after leaving the ferry, someone took the wrong turn... me, and we split from the convoy but thanks to a rather handy lighthouse, the convoy was soon re-united and we were on a car park ready for a few hours kip. We eventually all dropped off at around 5 am, waking hideously 3 hours later. Still all the lads have busied about making jokesa at one another and trying to fix the heating in the Mondeo. I’ve done a few more shots with the camera, and tried to keep as awake as possible for the drive today.
Day 0: Dover – Paris - On Ferry Crossing
It’s about 3.25 am now; we’ve made it to the ferry after some initial hiccups. After arriving at the cack-hole they call Reading, the two cars turned up about 10 minutes after I got off the train. Do you remember those where’s Waldo puzzles? Yeah, well finding the lads was the exact opposite of that. A bright yellow Ford Mondeo and grey Calibra with a huge batman logo down the side aren’t the most inconspicuous vehicles I’ve seen, but at least there’s no fear of them getting lost or stolen. After flagging them down, and chucking luggage on board SS Mondeo Baywatch, Ross immediately nailed it.
Pulling onto a motorway behind the Calibra, Ross was literally rizzla-paper distance off its rear bumper as we made the filling of a Vauxhall – lorry sandwich. I’ll be honest, and I know the lads will be reading this; the nerves did kick back in at the point. Don’t worry lads, a few hours later once in Dover and we got to know each other, nerves were far past a distance memory. Sitting in the bleakest side road, watching 3 welsh lads smack the crap out of a blow up sex doll is something I doubt I’m ever going to forget. Suggesting putting Maltessers up here arse was one idea I’d never thought I’d ever hear, but my god, these lot are eye watering funny.
As the cars are going, the Mondeo had a slight problem with the headlights and the Calibra with the rears. Both cars are coping well, despite the general abuse we’re giving them, such as top gear style bump-stops!
Other issues concerned a quick police stop in Dover after Ross nailed it (again) coming off a round-a-bout. Ironically it was the Calibra that we almost crashed into that got stopped. O and a slight issue with tickets when we tried to board the ferry, thanks to someone forgetting the ticket reference numbers. But all is well and good, both cars are getting plenty of attention, admittedly the yellow one more so, and we’re on route to Calais.
Pulling onto a motorway behind the Calibra, Ross was literally rizzla-paper distance off its rear bumper as we made the filling of a Vauxhall – lorry sandwich. I’ll be honest, and I know the lads will be reading this; the nerves did kick back in at the point. Don’t worry lads, a few hours later once in Dover and we got to know each other, nerves were far past a distance memory. Sitting in the bleakest side road, watching 3 welsh lads smack the crap out of a blow up sex doll is something I doubt I’m ever going to forget. Suggesting putting Maltessers up here arse was one idea I’d never thought I’d ever hear, but my god, these lot are eye watering funny.
As the cars are going, the Mondeo had a slight problem with the headlights and the Calibra with the rears. Both cars are coping well, despite the general abuse we’re giving them, such as top gear style bump-stops!
Other issues concerned a quick police stop in Dover after Ross nailed it (again) coming off a round-a-bout. Ironically it was the Calibra that we almost crashed into that got stopped. O and a slight issue with tickets when we tried to board the ferry, thanks to someone forgetting the ticket reference numbers. But all is well and good, both cars are getting plenty of attention, admittedly the yellow one more so, and we’re on route to Calais.
Day 0: 19.30: Coventry – Reading
What on earth am I doing? I’ve just got on the train to get to Reading, on the sheer scale of what I’m about to do has final reached me. All I keep hearing is 11 countries, 5 days, no idea who and 11 countries over and over in my head. To say I’m not nervous now is a complete lie. But nerves aside, excited wouldn’t be the right word to describe how I feel; ecstatic might just begin to cover it.
But really what the hell am I’m doing. I’m travelling alone, outside of England which I’ve never done before with group of guys I’ve never met before. If ever there was a definition of trust, this is it right here right now. Writing this is beginning to calm my nerves slightly as there are hundreds of people on this train. All of them have a destination, all of them have a purpose and all of them have their own unique story. I doubt, and I don’t want to be big headed here, but I doubt any of them are as remotely as exciting, or stupid, as what I’m about to do. I’m keeping a very close eye on all my bags; they all have stuff I need in like my camera gear, clothes and documents. If I lose one, the trip is buggered right up.
Speak of which, my mind has drifted towards the car front. I wonder what they are actually like. A ropey old Mondeo and a not much more healthy Calibra. £300. For a car. Travel tickets cost more than that, and these are (supposedly) fully working modes of transport. I say fully working, by that I mean they start, stop and hopefully steer.
Travel wise, I’m already one stop down, about 50 minutes away now. This is all too real for me, and I’m loving the feeling. I feel alive, electric almost. I’m doing something probably no-one would be silly enough to do. I know loads of people are doing this rally, but they all know each other probably. I don’t. It can only be brilliant. I won’t accept anything less, nor will I let it happen. This is what I’ve dreamt of doing, following car stories, only this is possibly one of the most exciting things I’ll ever do. 20 years old, through 11 countries on a shoe string. One day this is something I’ll tell my grand kids, and my kids. And hopefully do with them, only it won’t have the same sense of adventure, the same unknowns. To them it will, but I’ll have done it all before. So with that I’m going to check my bags, and try and relax into this journey before the labour of walking begins again.
But really what the hell am I’m doing. I’m travelling alone, outside of England which I’ve never done before with group of guys I’ve never met before. If ever there was a definition of trust, this is it right here right now. Writing this is beginning to calm my nerves slightly as there are hundreds of people on this train. All of them have a destination, all of them have a purpose and all of them have their own unique story. I doubt, and I don’t want to be big headed here, but I doubt any of them are as remotely as exciting, or stupid, as what I’m about to do. I’m keeping a very close eye on all my bags; they all have stuff I need in like my camera gear, clothes and documents. If I lose one, the trip is buggered right up.
Speak of which, my mind has drifted towards the car front. I wonder what they are actually like. A ropey old Mondeo and a not much more healthy Calibra. £300. For a car. Travel tickets cost more than that, and these are (supposedly) fully working modes of transport. I say fully working, by that I mean they start, stop and hopefully steer.
Travel wise, I’m already one stop down, about 50 minutes away now. This is all too real for me, and I’m loving the feeling. I feel alive, electric almost. I’m doing something probably no-one would be silly enough to do. I know loads of people are doing this rally, but they all know each other probably. I don’t. It can only be brilliant. I won’t accept anything less, nor will I let it happen. This is what I’ve dreamt of doing, following car stories, only this is possibly one of the most exciting things I’ll ever do. 20 years old, through 11 countries on a shoe string. One day this is something I’ll tell my grand kids, and my kids. And hopefully do with them, only it won’t have the same sense of adventure, the same unknowns. To them it will, but I’ll have done it all before. So with that I’m going to check my bags, and try and relax into this journey before the labour of walking begins again.
3 Days and Counting...
Calais - Frankfurt - Prague - Bratislava - Munich - Amsterdam.
Rally Europe is basically a poor man’s Gumball Rally, which is where the more fortunate of us have brought a very big expensive fast car and are now racing it against other similarly rich people with very big expensive fast cars. Rally Europe is basically that, but without the glitz, glamour and excess. Rules are simple. The car can cost no more the £300. That’s about it really. There’ll be a series of challenges along the way and a theme is advised. More about that in a minute. The route is some 1743 miles, winding its way from Calais to Frankfurt, then onto Prague followed by Bratislava with a stop at Munich to finish in Amsterdam.
Now the reason why this is such a big deal for me is down to some of the detail. For starters I have no idea who my team is. All I know is that I’m in an old Ford Mondeo; with a team of people from Wales and that I must wear Baywatch theme clothes. O and that the car has been painted to look like a life boat.
Currently it’s Sunday night, around 9.25 in the evening. I know that in about 3 day’s time I’m (hopefully going to be sat in a lifeboat thundering down the M4 to Dover with a group of people I’ve never met. Strangle I’m not nervous. Yet. But I am going to keep you updated on my preparation for the event, and hopefully during it as well.
So far I’ve book train tickets to Reading station for a rendez-vu at 9pm on Wednesday night, I’ve splashed out on a netbook, for which I’ve left the charge cable for at home, and I’ve brought some Baywatch clothes. So that leaves currency, collecting train tickets, getting the power cable and packing to do. 3 days and counting...
Rally Europe is basically a poor man’s Gumball Rally, which is where the more fortunate of us have brought a very big expensive fast car and are now racing it against other similarly rich people with very big expensive fast cars. Rally Europe is basically that, but without the glitz, glamour and excess. Rules are simple. The car can cost no more the £300. That’s about it really. There’ll be a series of challenges along the way and a theme is advised. More about that in a minute. The route is some 1743 miles, winding its way from Calais to Frankfurt, then onto Prague followed by Bratislava with a stop at Munich to finish in Amsterdam.
Now the reason why this is such a big deal for me is down to some of the detail. For starters I have no idea who my team is. All I know is that I’m in an old Ford Mondeo; with a team of people from Wales and that I must wear Baywatch theme clothes. O and that the car has been painted to look like a life boat.
Currently it’s Sunday night, around 9.25 in the evening. I know that in about 3 day’s time I’m (hopefully going to be sat in a lifeboat thundering down the M4 to Dover with a group of people I’ve never met. Strangle I’m not nervous. Yet. But I am going to keep you updated on my preparation for the event, and hopefully during it as well.
So far I’ve book train tickets to Reading station for a rendez-vu at 9pm on Wednesday night, I’ve splashed out on a netbook, for which I’ve left the charge cable for at home, and I’ve brought some Baywatch clothes. So that leaves currency, collecting train tickets, getting the power cable and packing to do. 3 days and counting...
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