Our vehicle was pretty darn sort of ok too. A 1995 Subaru Justy named Odradek ("Oddy") with an engine smaller than in most radio controlled cars. But we were ready. We had matching new white pants and Oddy had two very smart looking racing stripes. (There is a Your Tube video below of the start which someone has kindly posted.)
And so off we raced -15 anti-climatic minutes later once the cars ahead of us had managed to crawl into busy London traffic. But from there we sailed: to the white cliffs of Dover, across the Channel and over the flat and fast roads of Europe.
Not until around midnight, somewhere around Belgium, did we begin to tire of day one. Our options for sleeping were bleak, not having booked anywhere to sleep on the basis that we would be in a large hilarious convoy with other rally cars. Except that no one else was on our particular ferry, making it a rather short convoy of one.
After a quick vote we pulled off the motorway to a dark stretch of road leading to a village. Spying a suitable looking grassy spot, Marta heaved a sizable concrete block aside and we drove up an overgrown gravel road, where our free camping was somewhat hidden from ticket-writing policemen. There we threw down roll mats and hopped into our sleeping bags.
Although exhausted and not really bothered by the rocks digging into my back, a continual stream of unsavoury images from the movies
Easy Rider
and
Deliverance
flicked through my head, keeping me awake. Then, just as my nerves subsided and a relaxing sleep gradually began to pull me under, the sky erupted with a deafening growl.
Chris was awake, his eyes wide and white with terror, as the noise grew into a head shattering, ear-bleeding roar. Seconds later, just above the tree tops, the silver belly of a jumbo jet tore through the sky, so close that I felt like I could reach up and rub it. Chris was laughing, then I was laughing, Marta was frowning (she'd voted campsite).
Fifteen minutes later when the second jet tore through the sky it was less funny, and we barely chuckled as the third and forth planes landed at around 2 and 3am. Nor did we slap our thighs with merriment in the morning, when we drove ten kilometres further only to see a group of rally cars parked at a motorway rest point, next to a neat row of tents on some extremely soft looking grass. Still, the car was running well, we'd saved a night's accomodation and we were on our way to a party in a castle, with free Czech beer!
It was this lure of free Czech beer that I blamed for pushing poor Oddy up to 125km/hr for three hours while Chris and Marta slept. But attributing blame doesn't solve anything, I explained to them, as we sat on the side of the road, waiting for the overheated engine to cool. With time, the steam sudsided and we arrived safely, although a little late, at the castle for the "Czech Out" party.
The setting was magnificent, in the middle of lustrous golden wheat fields. The theme - which we had forgotten about - was "knights and wenches", so with our white pants and head scarves we decided that we were "Arabian Knights". No one got it and the free beer had run out, but the picturesque setting, funky bands and stunning Czech bar-tenders throughout the castle ensured it was a great party.
It didn't feel so great when the alarm went off at 6am to drive north to Poland to visit Marta's relatives and for some last minute work on the car, but we made it, the car is at the garage, and Romania, Bulgaria and Turkey await.
22 July 2008, Gora, Poland
Vital Statistics:
Miles:
1,082
Countries:
6
Breakdowns:
1
- Matt Kennedy-Good
Click here for photos.
Click here for the team's website.
