D-Day (Bracknell - Koblenz)

Well I guess it has to be an age thing. There was a time when a road trip with your mates in a banger required nothing more than a bottle of tequila, a south coast resort with a reputation for lax policing and the last two quid that the four of you can pool together for a late night bag of chips each. 

Now it seems, the very prospect of departing without an 8" satnav (bought especially), a new radio with iPhone comparability (bought especially) and a large Bakewell tart (home baked especially) is too terrible to contemplate and all these essential ingredients were found an appropriate nook in the car, alongside bags, jackets, currency of several flavours and denominations (plus cards in imposing platinum, black and graphite for hostage ransom purposes) Hi-Vi vests and several air fresheners. With all of this unnecessary luggage, there was sadly no room for a bottle of tequila. No-one seemed to mind in the end and the Bakewell tart was delicious. As I say, I think it must be an age thing.

I'll do this as a short summary of the component parts I think;

People

All fine actually. A little grumbling about the early start from certain quarters but all really looking forward to the trip and generally catching up as blokes do. Courteously asking how the missus is, then spending eight hours debating the European crisis and why you can no longer ask your mate to pass you a black Jelly Baby. Racist apparently. 

Vehicle 

Awfully rattly really. I honestly don't think we're going to get there at this rate. Five hundred miles in a single day is quite unprecedented and seems to have aged the old girl rather. 

The clutch started to smell around Charleroi and has in truth suffered from some rough handling for most of the day. This I think, is the biggest concern at present. There is a nasty grumbling between driver and passenger (insert gag of choice) and the temperature gauge flicks from left to right doing a worrying impression of a Geiger counter in a Chernobyl fairground. It pulls the left somewhat noticeably, the lights have been entirely obscured by the deflectors we added because Europe still refuses to drive on the correct side of the road. Finally, any attempt to drive above 60mph produces a strained wail from the engine like a constipated woman sat on the toilet having just suffered a prolapse. 

Still, provided the pace remains modest, overall you could say, she gets hot and flustered in traffic but still offers a quality ride after feeling the benefit of a cool breeze under her skirt after a few minutes on the open road. ...Well we're still going at least. 

Conditions 

Appalling. It's been hooning it down all day. Miserable conditions for driving really. 

Culture

Somewhere between nothing and minus several hundred. Northern French, Belgian and German motorways have little to recommend themselves culturally. The closest we've got to true culture was breaking open a bucket of Waitrose chocolate mini rolls. 

Car Interior Smell Rating - Wet dog  

Someone bought a selfie stick much to the disgust of some others. It has thus far been adopted under sufferance.