239 DEAR DIARY, DAY THREE…

Dear Diary,

Today was the big day, the start of the rally, which meant putting all the graphics onto the car…a task made more difficult by the incessant drizzle which soaked us and left a slippery film all over the car. Eventually we got the job done, and the car looked boss.

I’d arranged for a photographer to meet us and take some glamour shots.  The rest of the team were gobsmacked that I’d done such a thoughtful thing for us all. Lisa was even more gobsmacked when the photographer turned out to be her brother-in-law, who had taken our pictures at Aintree. He flew out to take some photos of the rally start and ended up being part of the organisation team!

We’d arranged to leave Namur and headed to Bastogne, famous for its pivotal role in The Battle of the Bulge in 1944. After a quick blast down the motorway, and three cars going in three different directions, we eventually met up at the War Memorial. We immediately showed our respect by going for a wee and having some lunch. We did walk around the monument and read about the battle - it was moving, to be honest.

We then decided to change our route so we could travel through Luxembourg because, well, it was on our list. After a detour through a quaint little town, watching all the Luxembourgers going about their day, it was back onto the motorway and into France, which meant we could check whether we had set up our Bip & Go properly.

Driving up to the fast-pass toll lane for the first time, without knowing if it actually works, is truly terrifying. Needless to say, we did it right and raced through. YAAAS! By the time we got to the next toll booth, I felt cooler than The Fonz…right up to the point where someone got stuck at the barrier and spent 5 minutes talking to a voice in a call centre in Paris or somewhere. Sake. Would have been quicker paying by card.

We decided to have a break along the way in Germany and randomly picked Saarbrücken, an industrial town on the border with France. This is where I had a bit of a faux pas. We grabbed a coffee at a deli in town, and I thanked the guy serving by saying ‘Merci beaucoup’, the thank-you we had been using for the last two days.  The guy looked at me strangely, hearing an Englishman with a thick accent murdering a French phrase. With all the driving, I honestly forgot which country I was in.

The rest of the journey was relatively straightforward, except for negotiating roadworks, where we were keeping up with traffic, doing 90kph in two lanes barely wider than one decent-sized British A-road, flanked on both sides by big concrete blocks. There were a good few moments when I had the clench, if you catch my drift.

We arrived in Freiburg, checked into our lovely Marriott hotel, and hit the town. We had questionable Currywurst (sausage in sweet curry sauce with skinny fries dusted with paprika), a questionable pint of something local and lagery (I couldn’t decide if it was rats or gnats), then paid a questionable €27 for a double gin and lemonade.

From what we have seen, Freiburg is a fantastic city. A great ‘cafe culture’, plenty of pubs and restaurants, really pedestrian-friendly (as long as you keep your eyes out for pedal bikes and trams), full of friendly people. It is definitely a place I’d like to visit again, maybe arriving by plane next time to save my poor, aching spine…and legs.

Yours,

Rob