Dan Norris

dannorris

Road trip rule #1 – only when things go wrong, is it right.

Every now and again, Google or Instagram or Tic Tac or one of the other social harvesting – sorry, social media – companies send me a sinister email, reminding me of what I was doing this time last year. Usually, I just sit there admiring their brazen cheek at pointedly reminding me that they’re monitoring my every activity – but this time it made me realise just how stupidly fast these particular twelve months has zipped by. Of course, we’ve all put our lives on hold in many ways for the majority of the year so far, and as I write, the prognosis for the remaining couple of months doesn’t look great either. But one thing is for sure – you’ll never forget 2020. And that got me philosophising. Isn’t life just one big road trip? After all, with a road trip, it’s very much not about just going from A to B. I mean, imagine saying to a mate in the pub ‘Oh, and I went on a great road trip this summer’. ‘Really? Where?’, ‘Well, I left home, and a week later, I arrived back again’.

Nor is it much good, let’s be honest, if everything goes well – or according to plan. Take the picture in question. This time last year, me and the wife had to go from France to the UK in time for Munich Legends’ yearly car meet, Legends in the Fall (another casualty of Covid this year) and we decided to drive - rather than fly – from our start point in Nice. In fact, as Sara had to meet a client doing a road trip round the Dolomites - leaving from Munich (Germany) - we thought we’d combine the lot - take the E30 M3, and make a proper road trip out of it.

Cramming the M3 full of small dogs and luggage we set off towards Italy, winding along the French coast and crossing the border around lunch time. The car had been a long time away from ML and we were soon reminded that a 30-year-old E30 can get a bit indignant if you ask it to leave its warm garage and embark on a surprise 2000-km adventure, without notice. On the motorway an E30 M3 can be a bit skittish, and with a shorter diff – seemed like a good idea around the Ashdown Forest – the engine is noisy even at relatively normal cruising speeds. Then it started to rain. And it rained very hard all the way across the Italian planes until we crossed into Switzerland, over the Simplon pass. Once we were in Switzerland it started raining a bit harder and got a bit darker, as we climbed up the Grimsel pass towards our hotel. Luckily as we ascended, it got foggy too. Anyone that owns an E30 M3 – or any similar era classic – knows that the lights are not its strongest suit. Or the wipers. And the heater didn’t work very well, so it misted up inside. And actually, it’s not that comfy. The dogs were hungry, we were hungry, and it was still foggy. But it would all be fine, because we had a lovely hotel booked with a view of the lake.

When we arrived at the hotel, there was a special surprise waiting for us. It was dark - but that didn’t stop us having a marvellous view across the water. What in fact stopped that was the fog, which had reduced visibility to around two feet. And it was the same the next morning when we left. It was probably a lovely lake, but we’ll never be sure. Undaunted, we headed down to the valley below and headed towards the Furka pass where we hoped to get some shots of the car for Sara’s blog, notably in front of the abandoned hotel Belvedere, an iconic but ghostly spot immortalised in the film Goldfinger. Unfortunately, someone else had the same idea. We were greeted by a bizarre sight - of all things – a full scale BMW press shoot for the newly launched 8 Series, with a full camera crew and kit, an M850i Gran Coupe and an E31 850CSi. They’d nicked our spot, and after a quick photo bomb it became clear they weren’t going anywhere soon, so on we went, through undulating fields of Swiss cows, their bells clanking softly as they watched us pass, gingerly picking our way through more fog on the narrow roads across the ridge and down the other side.

Our next destination was Lucerne, The Burgenstock Hotel, a fabulous, sprawling 5-star complex perched high above the lake, and this time we really did have a view. We wandered around

and visited the spa, where apparently people go to stay and drink nothing but organic smoothies for a week, and get themselves regularly frozen to -110 degrees Celsius. We didn’t, opting instead for cocktails by the fire.

The next day we headed through a maze of countries and principalities, picking a route crossing back and forth across the borders, before heading towards Munich on the motorway. Crossing into Germany, I was kind of looking forward to a legendary blast on the ‘bahn, even with that shorter diff. Unfortunately, it was dark, and I had tea lights rather than headlights. The big German cruisers thundered down the outside lane at mega speeds, and we soon felt vulnerable and slow in the little E30, their modern xenon lights one moment flooding the road with blinding light, the next plunging us into darkness as they swept past. It was scary, and I was tired and hungry – hungry enough that I didn’t care that we arrived so late that we ended up screaming through Munich city centre to catch last orders at the Hard Rock Cafe – the only place still serving. I had the Jimi Hendrix burger with a side order of Michael Jackson onion rings.

The next day the M3 started screaming. As soon as we went over 70mph, there was an unbearable wind noise coming from the windscreen. We tried to trace it - to no avail. For the rest of the journey we had to choose between driving interminably slow or going mad to the sound of fingernails on a blackboard. We stopped the night in Metz – the sort of town you’ve always seen signs for but

never visited – and actually it was quite nice. The next morning, we motored on through ever worsening weather across the hideous Pas de Calais, finally forced to take the only sensible route north using the autoroute, through the flattest, most boring terrain known to man. The final leg of French motorway towards the tunnel crosses hours of muddy fields and it is always rainy. I don’t recommend it for a holiday, unless you live in a war zone.

Finally, we arrived safely in Blighty, and luckily there is a long stretch of frustrating average speed cameras. This limits you to a soul crushing 50mph all the way up the M20 where they are doing ‘road works’ - which seemed to involve just putting out thousands of traffic cones - but at least we didn’t have to listen to the screaming wind noise. It was good to be back.

But despite all the hardships and challenges, the repetitive strain injuries caused by the seats and the long-term deafness, we’d had a great trip – one we’ll never forget. We had something to talk about, something to write about, something that had taken us out of our comfort zones for a while, and we felt alive. And we had that photo. The other day, just seeing that picture from in front of the Belvedere Hotel on Furka bought it all back to me.

So, thank you to Google’s datatheft department, for helping me better understand Covid, 2020 and life in general. Its not like we’re born, just to die – it’s not only about A to B. Life is probably better if there’s a few adventures on the way, when things don’t always go right, or the way we planned. Think of life like a road trip, a sort of old-school grand tour, and just maybe, it all makes a little more sense.