August 18th and 19th.
Excerpt from a two-part article written by myself (Sam Glover), published in the March and April '07 editions of Practical Classics magazine.
After 10km en route the next morning, the cab’s handbrake suddenly hauled itself on, causing grinding to a halt. The mechanical linkage had pulled itself piano-string tight for reasons not initially clear, and released with a significant twang when disconnected. Pulling away, the cause of the problem became obvious as the right-hand rear leaf spring gave way, folding its rearmost hangar flat against the chassis rail, and hauling the axle on the affected corner a good three inches backwards. After some shifting of weight, we forged on bravely with the rear of the cab fixed in a permanent state of trying to overtake the front.
The first mountain pass served up rough but passable tracks, but these evaporated as we entered a huge mountain-fringed plain graffitied with a silly-string of paths and streams that bore no resemblance to our small-scale maps. For almost two days we blundered around in universal bewilderment without ever locating our intended point of exit, eventually finding our way back to the tracks on which we had arrived. Terrain varied abruptly from Sahara, to Amazon, to the Moon, with river crossings, swamps, deserted villages, and breathtaking views thrown in for good measure.
Tracks tended to be deeply rutted, providing two options for the driver of a car with minimal ground clearance: balancing two wheels on the peak between the ruts, or driving across the steppe and using the track purely as a navigation aid. The terrain being regularly carpeted with head-sized rocks, a balancing act was often the only option despite being in no way easy in the crabbing cab, often resulting in sickening blows to the drooping fuel tank and vengeful shrubs snatching chunks from the bodywork. Punctures were rife throughout, team Brick setting a record of four in one day.
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