The Lada Legend: The Colonel Goes West - Part One
There comes a time in every great Soviet car owner's life when he/she wants to test the limits of Soviet automotive engineering. You see it to some degree everyday on the streets and roads of the former Soviet Union. Volgas and Ladas packed to the hilt with apples, rolling on inwardly-slanted wheels and blowing black smoke. 4x4 Nivas being taken where no car has the right to go. Pobedas and Zils loaded with more people than was recommended by the State Committee on Automative Safety (may not have actually existed). The fact that any of the aforementioned cars are still on the road is a testament not only to the Soviet auto industry but to the mechanics that keep them chugging along.
It is a strange phenomenon the world over. You start with that first hundred kilometres, thinking it to be a great achievement (after your engine seizes, any forward progress is a great achievement). By the time you pass the thousand-kilometre mark on your first roadtrip, you start asking yourself: just how far could one drive a thirty-year-old Zhiguli? Gather three travellers around a map to discuss such a question leaves them all salivating at the potential destinations.
Like most cities, there are four major directions one could go from Baku. North to Russia, South to Iran, east to Kazakhstan/Turkmenistan, and west to Georgia and beyond. The first two were cancelled out almost immediately. Both countries would be much happier to see our car than the foreign nationals held within. Heading east was ruled out due to time constraints (although a trip through Central Asia is not only be epic, but required at some point in my life). And thus we settled on a journey westward. Destination: Split, Croatia.
Our proposed route would take us across Azerbaijan and through Georgia, Turkey, Bulgaria, Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and finally Croatia (that's seven countries, if you are keeping track at home). And we had ten days to do it in.
As the July 15th departure date approached, a moment of horror. Most of the countries we planned to go to had temporary vehicle import rules stating that cars older than twenty years would not be allowed to enter. Turkey appeared the most strict, with Serbia coming in a distant second. There was yet another issue. If the Colonel happened to breakdown along the way, could I leave the country without the car (your vehicle is usually connected to your passport upon entry into a country)? This trip was becoming less about "will the Colonel make it to Croatia" and more about "how many borders would we actually be able to cross?" We settled on the idea that crossing at least one border would be a fitting end to the Colonel's legend.
At last, the date arrived. We packed up the newly repaired, painted, and washed Colonel and set out on the trip of a lifetime. The next six or seven parts to this series will detail just how it all went down, from border crossings to breakdowns, freeways to film festivals.
Enjoy.
It is a strange phenomenon the world over. You start with that first hundred kilometres, thinking it to be a great achievement (after your engine seizes, any forward progress is a great achievement). By the time you pass the thousand-kilometre mark on your first roadtrip, you start asking yourself: just how far could one drive a thirty-year-old Zhiguli? Gather three travellers around a map to discuss such a question leaves them all salivating at the potential destinations.
Like most cities, there are four major directions one could go from Baku. North to Russia, South to Iran, east to Kazakhstan/Turkmenistan, and west to Georgia and beyond. The first two were cancelled out almost immediately. Both countries would be much happier to see our car than the foreign nationals held within. Heading east was ruled out due to time constraints (although a trip through Central Asia is not only be epic, but required at some point in my life). And thus we settled on a journey westward. Destination: Split, Croatia.
Our proposed route would take us across Azerbaijan and through Georgia, Turkey, Bulgaria, Serbia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, and finally Croatia (that's seven countries, if you are keeping track at home). And we had ten days to do it in.
As the July 15th departure date approached, a moment of horror. Most of the countries we planned to go to had temporary vehicle import rules stating that cars older than twenty years would not be allowed to enter. Turkey appeared the most strict, with Serbia coming in a distant second. There was yet another issue. If the Colonel happened to breakdown along the way, could I leave the country without the car (your vehicle is usually connected to your passport upon entry into a country)? This trip was becoming less about "will the Colonel make it to Croatia" and more about "how many borders would we actually be able to cross?" We settled on the idea that crossing at least one border would be a fitting end to the Colonel's legend.
At last, the date arrived. We packed up the newly repaired, painted, and washed Colonel and set out on the trip of a lifetime. The next six or seven parts to this series will detail just how it all went down, from border crossings to breakdowns, freeways to film festivals.
Enjoy.
posted by kent @ 11:40 a.m.
0
comments
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home