249 DEAR DIARY, DAY THIRTEEN (EPILOGUE)…

Dear Diary,

Well, we made it.  All the way to Monaco and back via Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany, Switzerland, Italy, France and Spain in the same time it takes to receive a delivery from Evri. 

There have been so many highs: the camaraderie between our three teams, the other Ralliers, the hotels (we chose impeccably considering they were booked when we were more than half cut), the stunning scenery, the food, the culture, but most of all, the little cars.  

The two Abarths and the Audi have been proper heroes.  Dragging our carcasses down motorways, over mountains, around lakes and through ancient cities with barely a cough, sputter, or fart.  

I loved my little Abarth before the trip; I adore it now.  It looks boss, goes like the proverbial off a shovel, tackles corners like it's on a Scalextrix track, was 100% reliable (which came as a shock to a lot of people on the rally), and, most importantly, got us there and back.  

The sum total of issues across all three cars was a flat tyre before we left Liverpool, a chip on the windscreen picked up somewhere on the M6 on the first day, a temperamental air con unit which I think was broken before we left home and an aftermarket wing mirror that couldn’t stand the ridiculous heat in the South of France and gave up (I completely sympathise).  

The most serious problem was an engine warning light that came on in Carl’s Abarth in Belgium, which could mean anything from a misbehaving sensor to imminent engine catastrophe.  He soldiered on; the car kept going, so it was probably the former. 

There were a few bad moments, mostly down to getting lost and losing a member of our convoy at various points along the way, but now, looking back, it is a funny side note to the trip. 

A really annoying thing was the lack of lemonade in certain countries for Lisa’s gin!  It became a mission to get her a decent bevvy.  

The worst thing on the trip was the two French beauts who refused to let us in when we got to roadworks and almost caused a crash, and the psychotic coach driver in Northern Spain who tried to run me off the road.  I hope the fleas of a thousand camels infest their collective knackers.  

The good moments far outweighed the three helmets who must have downloaded their driving licences from the internet, though. 

Random stuff like singing and dancing in an Irish bar with two Japanese students, a Swede and a Tunisian while necking round after round of Baby Guinness’, sitting on the shore of Lake Como eating olives as the sun started to set, visiting 4 countries in one day and delivering “thank you” in the completely wrong language much to the bemusement of the guy in the coffee shop, going through the Chunnel for the first time, staying in a bone fide chateau, our private rally photographer flying over from England to take some snaps, hearing the entertainment officer on the ferry call out “That is a correct answer for the Padded Coat Hangers!”, the Ai pictures pinging around, the pool in our walled oasis, the picture on top of the Gotthard Pass with ‘Travelling Ellis’, the sheer effort put in by some of the teams to transform the cars, especially ’Little Chopper’ and ‘Thomas The Tank Citroen’, driving on the wrong side of the road for the first time, leaving a motorbike far behind when he tried to race me up a mountain road, ordering pizza to a fancy hotel at 11pm and getting it delivered to our table in the bar, the guy howling ‘My Way’ on the karaoke in the middle of the Bay of Biscay and on and on.  

I’m certain I’ll remember something else the minute I send this. 

We said to each other from the start that this was an adventure, not a holiday, a chance to complete a once-in-a-lifetime trip and make some amazing memories.  It delivered on every level.  It also helped raise over £ 3,000 for an amazing charity in the name of an amazing person, Ellis. 

Yours,

Rob