Friday 23rd September
Denmark had impressed us a lot. Their green outlook, the sparkling clean appearance of their capital city and the relaxed nature by which the Danes go about their everyday lives led us all to agree we could see ourselves living there. But like the 67 days preceding this one, a different day brings a different destination, and this time it was the turn of the Netherlands.
Denmark had impressed us a lot. Their green outlook, the sparkling clean appearance of their capital city and the relaxed nature by which the Danes go about their everyday lives led us all to agree we could see ourselves living there. But like the 67 days preceding this one, a different day brings a different destination, and this time it was the turn of the Netherlands.
On the highway leading out of Denmark and into Germany Stephen Fry delivered the concluding sentiments of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows to a captivated audience. The audiobooks had almost become part of the family since they were introduced way back on Day 10 in Turkey, and we had been gripped ever since. The heroic wizarding adventures of Harry, Ron and Hermione had helped to maintain our sanity throughout the rally as well as galvanising our own quest into the unknown. Marigold, our very own golden snitch, had bravely carried us every step of the way, from “you’re a wizard Harry” to “Harry’s heart did beat for all of us, for all of us!”
Snatched so early from the relative tranquillity of the muggle world, she was reluctantly thrust onto the rally stage through no consent of her own. Constantly we were reminded of her unease at being the chosen one, the cursed car who would have to endure this perilous journey. Designed for the smooth, uniform roads of the western world, Marigold was not wired for a baptism into the arena of rocky washboard roads. Baring the scars of an overheating radiator, a crumpled bonnet and shredded tyres she was crying out for us to stop this torture. Yet deep down beneath this layer of unendurable pain there were glimmers that she is, was and will forever be enamoured by the romance of the rally.
With one last ounce of strength, Marigold conjured a dusty cloud from her exhaust that swirled upwards to form the wispy outline of a Mongolian Yak. “Your petrol-nus”, we all exclaimed in unison, awestruck by what was unfolding. As its golden glow faded, we turned to her, our eyes full of tears.
“After all this time?”
“Always”, said Marigold.
In that epiphanic moment all the missing pieces to the puzzle suddenly fell into line, Marigold had revealed her true rally colours. A cacophony of horn blasts and an eruption of general hyperactivity followed as slightly bewildered Dutch motorway drivers looked on.
When we rolled into a service station Caleb decided to add to his now overflowing collection of beer from each country to give to his dad. That was until he left it on the roof of the car as we drove off causing a fountain of sticky pilsener to spurt all over the garage forecourt. As if that wasn’t enough he fell for the same gag a few hours later with a cup of coffee yet continued to question where all his money went. When we arrived in Amsterdam it was to be the last evening of the convoy as Will and Isaac were to part ways with us for the final time. Beer in hand, we sat in the midst of a bustling square and reminisced on what had been 68 days of the most incredible adventure.
Posted by: Rich