This happended last year, in May 2008, and since we are about to get on the road again, I thought it’s worth remembering:
Ovidiu was waiting for the EAZWV congress for month. He was almost too excited (even for him). I have to admit I wasn’t… Still under the influence of my “middle study crisis”, I guess… And the thought of spending 150 euros on 2 days and a half of boring lectures was quite appalling. But I’m glad I didn’t back out.
We made the long journey to Leipzig with Ovidiu’s poor car. I’m saying “poor” because it was filled up to the extent that one more jar of pickles would’ve produced an implosion on it’s own weight. To cut the costs we decided to take two friends of Ovidiu’s who were trying to make a cheap, short holiday, so their luggage added up… so we had 5 huge rucksacks (5 because a lady always carries a bit more attire…), 1 huge paraglider (took up half the trunk), tons of food, 2 tents, sleeping bags, mum’s cookies, home made “pasca”, veggie “drob”, etc etc etc… You can imagine.
So…we were happily driving along (actually I was happily driving along) the Olt river, just about to cross the bridge in Calimanesti, where I stopped. Because all the cars in front of me stopped, for one reason or another. It was enough reason for me to stop, but unfortunately for a chick in a Ford behind me it wasn’t… And that’s how all 4 of us, together with the 5 rucksacks, 1 paraglider and mum’s cookies were literally squashed between the Ford and an Italian-registered Mercedes… (Oh, this is another reason for calling Ovidiu’s car poor)
And the fun part of the story begins: listen to the guy in the Mercedes screaming his lungs out at you; call daddy; go to the police; give declarations; call daddy again; blow in the alcoholmeter; call daddy once more; draw little cars on the police report; realize in total desperation that the trunk wouldn’t close and that it’s 2nd day of Easter so no opened services; start to consider jumping in the Olt as a good option…Ovidiu was on the edge of a nervous breakdown.
Our salvation was to tie the trunk with boot laces, and drive back to Ocnele Mari, my country-side village, about 20 km from there. With a desperate puppy face I gathered some friends, neighbors, relatives, all great guys who somehow after 3 hours of beating the crap out of the hinges, breaking it into pieces and making a whole new one, managed to make the trunk properly close…Ok, maybe properly is not a good choice of words, but let’s say that now we could pass the border …
And we went on…passed the Hungarian border at about 2 a.m., all of us with abnormally huge, totally innocent looking eyes and smiles on our faces, and with the hearts pounding out of our chests…and FREEDOM!! The rest of the road was thank God uneventful. We made a stop in Vienna for 2 nights, ate at Vegetasia, went to the Opera, and drove along into the unknown…
End of part 1