Chapter 6
Touch Down

Saturday 2 September, East Sussex, UK

The final leg

To sum up the driving skills in Western Europe, I would say that the French are better than the Germans but definitely worse than the Belgians. After driving around the M25 this afternoon, I am proud to say that we Brits are definitely the best. Yup—can you believe we have made it back to England? I’m not sure I can either, but we’re not quite finished yet and the champagne will have to wait for another 24 hours.

We made the Eurotunnel train by the skin of our teeth this afternoon, thanks to the French authorities deciding to carry out extensive road repairs on the main road into Calais. It was such an odd feeling to be so nearly home, and I smiled for the whole journey. I had fully expected to burst into tears once we alighted in England, but instead I felt a strange sense of bewilderment. When we pulled into a petrol station I just gazed around, feeling disoriented. Ants and I both felt like strangers in our own country, but I’m afraid that I cannot articulate that feeling any better.

Tonight we are staying in a hotel about 20 miles north of Brighton. We both hope that tomorrow is a special day and that TT makes her grand entrance into Bartholomew Square at 3.30 p.m. without any breakdowns or dramas. Emotions are whizzing around my head, but I can’t really put them into any perspective at the moment. All that is left for us to do is enjoy our last night of this amazing adventure, get a good sleep and look forward to what will probably be the best day of our lives. Goodnight.

Touch Down

14 weeks and over 12 500 miles later we have made it…as far as England at least. At 3.30 p.m. today the three of us waved goodbye to foreign fields and tukked on to the Eurotunnel, much to the amusement of our fellow passengers. An hour later we were hogging the inside lane of the M20 and heading for Brighton. Now here we are, tukked away in a leafy corner of the south of England, preparing for final Touch Down tomorrow afternoon.

Yesterday was very funny. We’d made some rather fluid plans with a BBC cameraman to meet ‘somewhere between Cologne and Brussels’. I know Ting Tong’s pretty visible, but I wasn’t sure how easy it was going to be to spot each other while travelling at speed down opposite sides of a Belgian motorway. But Peter, the sharp-eyed cameraman, tracked us down and we spent the rest of the drive to Brussels engaged in a number of filming activities, narrowly avoiding mishap as Peter hung out of the window to film us and drove and filmed at the same time.

It was thanks to his work, however, that we avoided what could have been a sticky situation at the Eurotunnel terminal. Jo and I were concerned that our bid for Brighton could be foiled at this very final hurdle, since technically we are not allowed to drive TT on the British roads until she has undergone an MSVA (Motorcycle Single Vehicle Approval) test. But rather than the English customs officials asking us any difficult questions, they all flocked out of their huts and said ‘We saw you on the BBC news last night—congratulations for getting this far!’ and other such niceties. The power of the press, eh?

Our last night abroad could not have been more perfect. We had the privilege of staying with Sam and Bea Rutherford in Brussels, who spoilt us rotten and fed us amazing Belgian chocolate brownies and champagne. I mentioned them both on a blog months ago: Sam drove from London to Sydney in a pink Land Rover called Pinky in 1998-99 and gave us lots of invaluable advice before we left. It seems like months and months ago that he and Bea, over a glass of wine in Winchester, asked us to come and stay with them as we tukked past Brussels. Thanks, guys, for a wonderful European send-off.

Being in England is very strange. Jo and I have both got the sensation of being impostors in our own country. It feels like we have been away for ages and seen so much. It’s almost too much to take in that tomorrow it all comes to an end—a sad thought. Last night, after a few too many glasses of white wine and champagne, the thought of coming back to England and finishing this glorious adventure made me cry. I know it will be wonderful to see everyone, but after that it’s Monday, and reality, and all those ‘What next?’ questions.

So many thoughts and feelings are galloping through my head about the last few months, about tomorrow, about next week, next month, next year…but they’ll have to wait until next week to be blogged. All I can say is that the past few months have been both the most exhilarating and challenging times of my life. I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to do such a journey, to meet the people I have, and to have travelled with two such wonderful companions. I know there will be more tears tomorrow.

Tuesday 5 September, Brighton, UK

We’ve tukking made it!

All three of us are back home safe and sound, having officially driven 12 561 miles in a tuk tuk—once Guinness have given this the rubber stamp, it means we are the new world record holders for the longest journey by auto-rickshaw.

It was pretty strange driving the last stretch to Brighton. I couldn’t believe that we had actually made it in one piece and was totally paranoid about crashing just before we ended. We pulled up on the outskirts of Brighton to meet the Brighton tuc tucs, which looked so diddy next to TT. Then began the ceremonial two-mile drive to the finishing line. We pulled up just around the corner from Bartholomew Square so that Ants’ friend Chaz could get the video camera set up and film our final moments. I had a quick cigarette to calm my nerves and we drove the last 100 yards into the square. We tukked through a pink ribbon and were greeted by the shouts and screams of family and friends—it was such an amazing moment and completely overwhelming. I thought I would burst into tears, but my eyes remained totally dry until one of my ferrets, Shrimp, was placed in my arms and the waterworks started. My mum said she thought it was nice the way I cried over a ferret but not over her—sorry Mum, but if you had whiskers, fur and a pink diamanté collar you would make me cry too.

We had photos and a couple of interviews, and then it was time to say hi to everyone who’d been kind enough to welcome us back. Unfortunately, there was not enough time and too many people to speak to everyone properly. However, I would like to say a really big thank you to everyone who turned up—it was very special and probably one of the best moments of my life. It was a great day and I was so full of every kind of emotion: anxiety, happiness, relief, fear, euphoria, confusion.

It feels a little weird to be back, but not as strange as I felt just after disembarking from the Eurotunnel. I have returned to drinking copious amounts of tea, playing with the ferrets and going to bed too late with great ease. Life is still the same. The only thing is that I now have four months of great memories to dip into whenever I feel like it. I have successfully forgotten how challenging the trip was and am already fantasising about tukking back to Thailand via the southerly route, i.e. Iran, Pakistan and India.

I have now had a couple of days to reflect on our adventure and get my thoughts into perspective. I feel so incredibly grateful to have been given the opportunity to drive a tuk tuk from Bangkok to Brighton. Ting Tong is such a beautiful machine and she made the experience special in so many ways. People just seemed to fall in love with her everywhere we went, and I am convinced that we would have had more problems if we were driving a regular car. Although we initially cursed her three wheels when we were banned from the expressways in China, it actually worked out for the best, because we experienced a China that few tourists are lucky enough to see. We used to refer to TT as a ‘people magnet’, and through her charms we met some truly amazing people: Anuwat, Dow, David Fall, Jack, Rudy, Oleg, Ivan and Shamil, to name just a few.

It does feel good to be home, but I really miss the fun of the open road. Even when the going got tough, it was still an awesome experience and some of the most difficult times stand out among the memories. It’s also weird being separated from Ants, because we have been like a married couple for the past four months. I really miss her. We had an amazing time on the trip and I would like to thank her more than words can say for joining Tuk to the Road. I have had the best time of my life.

I hope that this trip has taught me some lessons. I think that I am slightly calmer and more patient. It will be interesting to see whether I retain these qualities now I am back in the western world. I have also learnt that people all over the world are more similar than different. We may all look slightly different, worship various gods and live diverse existences, but we all share the same fundamental human characteristics: the need for love and acceptance and the desire to help our fellow human beings. Perhaps I am being slightly optimistic on the last point, but the individuals that we were lucky enough to meet on our trip were almost without exception kind and giving. Maybe our overwhelmingly positive experiences have given me a naive view of the world in which we live, but I would like to think that most people are good. I will endeavour to apply what I have learnt to my everyday life: to treat others as I would like to be treated myself and help those in need when the opportunity arises. I feel like I have had a very privileged life so far. I am not talking about the private education or comfortable upbringing, although I am grateful for this. What I am talking about is being brought up surrounded by a loving and caring family and loyal friends. I think it is easy to forget what is really important in life. We are surrounded by the trappings of the material world and, as much as we may enjoy these, without love and our fellow human beings life would feel pretty meaningless.

Tuesday 5 September, Kelling, Norfolk, UK

We’ve only gone and done it!

We’ve done it…we’ve done it…we’ve done it…yeeeeeeehhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaah!

I remember tapping away on this computer a few months ago beside a blazing campfire in northern Kazakhstan, musing how this trip had been a series of can’t-believe-it moments. And now here we are, back in England, in three whole pieces, having driven almost exactly halfway round the world. It’s by far the biggest can’t-believe-it moment of them all. Even odder is that for the first time in 15 weeks I am bereft of Jo and Ting Tong, having said goodbye to them and Brighton last night and come home to Norfolk. I feel like I’ve lost a limb and have spent a good deal of time today wandering around the house like a lost puppy, unsure what to do with myself. I think the next few weeks will be quite odd, but we’ve got to hold on to all those amazing things we’ve seen.

Now back to Sunday and Touch Down.

Sunday can be summed up in one word: surreal. We had spent 14 weeks inching around the Tibetan Plateau, across the Gobi Desert, through the Central Asian steppes, over the Urals, down the Volga, along the autobahn…and here we were in England, poised to cross the finish line. Neither of us could quite get our heads around the reality of finishing, seeing all our friends and family, and kissing goodbye to Tuk to the Road. As we packed up for the final time and did interviews with the BBC World Service, Radio Five Live, the Press Association and the Eastern Daily Press, I felt a tangle of emotions welling up inside me. We’d so nearly made it—this was the moment we had driven 12 500 miles to reach—how fantastic. And yet,on the other hand,crossing that line meant diving into the unknown and the life that I had become so accustomed to vanishing in an instant. No more living out of a rucksack, no more shivering in the back of TT, no more smiles and looks of amazement as we flashed past, no more Auto Repair For Dummies. I thought back over the weeks since we had left Bangkok, remembered people we had met along the way—Ivan, Oleg, Rudy, Jack, Nastia, Vova, Evgenia. I thought about strangers who’d helped us and the extraordinary sights we’d seen. I remembered that magical day we drove across the Gobi Desert into the sunset at Dunhuang, the crowds of curious Chinese, our night camping under a full moon in Russia. There were so many special memories to hold on to, things I would cherish for my whole life. I didn’t want it to end.

Ting Tong didn’t want to finish either—no doubt having heard the rumours about the ferrets in her new home—and threw a minor tukking tantrum before finally starting and allowing us to drive the final 30 miles. In perfect English drizzle, with butterflies in our stomachs, we wound our way down the A22 towards Brighton, past Maresfield and Lewes, nervous of having a crash in the very final stages and thinking of that fat lady singing. On the outskirts of Brighton, we were met by two of the new tuc tuc taxis and the three of us tukked in glorious three-wheeled unity into the city centre and along the seafront, beep-beep-beeping as we drove the final stretch with people waving and shouting ‘Are you the ones from Asia?’There it was—the sea, the pier, Brighton, the place we had driven across two continents to reach.

The next hour was the most surreal of all: driving through a pink ribbon, saying hello to everyone, being greeted by the mayor of Brighton, Jo’s ferrets appearing—cue tears—interviews with the BBC, The Argus, the Eastern Daily Press, lots of photos. All our families were there—parents, cousins,aunts, uncles,siblings-plus Anna, Lisa,Alexia andTessa, Daisy and a handful of friends from Norfolk and the wonderful Charlie, who had flown all the way from Scotland to be there. Then it was time for the pub, where much champagne was drunk and lots of hugs and kisses dispensed. The pub was followed by supper at, appropriately, aThai restaurant, which was followed by a club. By the later stages, the numbers had dwindled to the faithful few: my sister, Charlie, a few of the Norfolk crew and cousin Bert. All I can say is that at 5 a.m. we were all dancing on podiums at the Zap Club and a hell of a lot of champagne had been consumed. Needless to say, our 8 a.m. radio interview with BBC Southern Counties was a little bleary-eyed.

At 1 a.m. last night, after my father had decided to take the scenic route from Brighton to Norfolk, I eventually made it home, to my own bed, which, after nearly 16 weeks away from it, was extremely odd.

I think it is going to take me a long time to fully comprehend and appreciate the experiences of the past few months. Everyone else has been living their normal lives here, and we’ve driven halfway around the world in a comedy car. Somehow it just doesn’t feel real, like it didn’t really happen. The fact that I’m sitting here in my house in Norfolk, at the same desk I sat at before we left, makes it even harder to believe. Have I just woken up from some weird dream? I think it’s going to take a while for me to fully take it all in and move on. Not that I know what I am moving on to or how I’m going to fill the gap that is life after tukking. Jo, Ting Tong and the open road are going to be a hard act to follow.

One thing I do know, however, is that the past 14 weeks have been the best of my life. Very hard at times, exhausting and stressful, but also incredibly exhilarating, mind-blowingly beautiful and hysterically funny. I’ve laughed, cried, despaired, marvelled and questioned my own sanity. Driving across the world in a pink tuk tuk is something I would recommend to everyone. It’s proved to me that humans are essentially kind, that humour is the key to survival and that risks are always worth taking.