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.