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The Tibet roads are getting tracherous as soon as we have left the town. A mountain track winds its way through rocky hills with steep climbs and descents and sudden crosswise gullies.
Driving here makes me a happy man. The 2CV is in its element, and before long we are ahead of the pack. Seeing hell driver Phil Surtees in his Willys Jeep in the distance in front of us, we floor it and soon we are tailgating the Jeep.
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The sherpas have organised useful sanitary facilities. A hole dug in the damp earth is discreetly cloaked by a tent. Never unoccupied for long the tents are silent witnesses to varying degrees of bowel problems all of us suffer at this height and subjected to unfamiliar food.
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There's a strange ticking sound somewhere in the car. It has been there for a while already. I examined the front and back axle back in Lanzhou, but maybe I oversaw something. It doesn't sound good at all......
Nepal! We are welcomed by rows of people on Friendship Bridge, waving Nepalese flags and banners saying 'Please Spread Love and Peace' and 'Wellcome Peking to Perish'. Children in their school uniforms are singing and continue even as a sudden shower comes pouring down. Every few metres or so somebody presses a red dot of paint on our foreheads.
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We get closer and then we storm past the Jeep, honking and waving. Now the Peykan rallyists from Iran overtakes us and dashes up the hill. The Porsche is lagging behind. What a ride! Our engine and gearbox are perfectly in sync. Teamwork in hearmony. Our 2CV may be no swimmer but she is doing fantastically as a mountain goat.
A deafening crash! My door flies open, smashing into the rear wing. It feels as if all four wheels of the 2CV have collapsed underneath us. The bottom of the car is screeching across the asphalt. A cloud of dust surrounds us. End of story...?
