The record-breaking Caravans Salon 2021 fair in Poznań is behind us

Glory to the slow cars There is such an assumption among travelers, if you love and think about living together, take it on the road and she will show you the truth, said Herman Garcia Woydatt as we sat that April night on the side of the Chicago to Seattle state road. I have been to the States a few times, but if I had to choose just one moment that stuck in my memory, it would be this darkly bent night in fact. A few years later, when I was a little older, the words of old Woydett began to echo loud enough in my head that I had to go on a journey. I had been with my love for some time and although we saw a piece of the world together, I could not name any of these little escapades a real JOURNEY. I'm obsessed with making a loop around something. It was no different this time. I convinced Viktoria that we absolutely had to START LOOP. The choice fell on the Balkans due to its wildness and proximity to our land. For months I have been tracing routes, collecting information and preparing our mobile travel. Unfortunately, this last point consumed much more money than I had assumed, which forced me to abandon the idea of conquering - as Churchill used to say - the soft underbelly of Europe. I spun the globe in front of Victoria's nose and pointed out recently a very fashionable Romania. But fear not, this is not another article about her. So much has been said recently about this beautiful place that on the mountain pass we passed Toyota on Polish numbers, and the driver casually waved his hand at us. No fireworks, no hugs, no dinner together. I definitely preferred the times when, while traveling through Romania, with my father, we only passed the date 1310, and the Pole was an extraordinary rarity. And although we were just there, what I'm talking about can happen at any latitude. Love naturally requires a trial. Mine weighs over two tons and is not quite comfortable in dressage. It is her, or rather him, I devote these words to, because we went south with Viki Defender aka S uperve D efik . I've been working with him all summer. Many things have changed, starting with the engine overhaul, floor protection and roof sealing; by soundproofing the whole and cutting out new carpets to lining the floor with wood, building a bed and a wall unit. Time passed quickly, and when the haymaking began, with music in the speakers and poetry in our hearts, we headed south. I was convinced that this journey could only end in two ways - either we hate this car and exchange it for Discovery II or we love it and it will always warm our garage space. Let's be honest, we were to spend the next time in a tight, aluminum can, in which it is hot or cold alternately, and to which, for unknown reasons, someone attached a rattling engine and two pairs of wheels, and these wheels were additionally wrapped with a thick layer of rubber known in the environment under code name MT. You do not need to explain an expert on the road, and I highly recommend road bike enthusiasts. Let me ignore acceleration and cruising speed. When, after a day of travel, we stopped behind the Hungarian border, tired, we fell asleep quickly and even the nearby 1.8-liter fan club spot could not prevent us from doing so. Complications, however, started on the second day, when, beyond the Maramore mountain range, our heater broke down, and my companion fell ill with an unknown car disease, manifested by shortness of breath and above-average feeling of heat. The heater worked continuously from that moment on, effectively increasing the already high temperature in the cabin, which only made Viki feel worse. After crossing the mountain line, I ordered a break and turned to the mountain road where I found a stream, and behind it a fabulously green and beautiful meadow. I pulled out the swooning Victoria and sat it down in a chair to the accompaniment of the splashing of the stream and the rustling of the grass. The place was truly amazing, so we decided to spend a bit more time there. When we rested in the C-class tourist seats and looked around the area, I realized that if it weren't for Defik, I would have passed this wonderful place without suspecting that it might exist at all. A friend was waiting for us in Cluj-Napoca. He received us very hospitably, giving us the top of his house where, after eight hours of noise and getting out of not particularly comfortable and broken seats, we could rest and take a bath. The evening in Cluj was teeming with life, and we went from pub to pub, where we could not help but eat this or that, because, as Tomi said, everything was wonderful. It was only here that we changed the currency, because at the border we found only a strange, little man with an eye of tens of thousands of lei in the trunk of a Mercedes from the early 1980s. When we came back home, very sleepy and tired, we dreamed only about stretching comfortably in bed. To our surprise, our host organized a small evening with wine, and at two in the morning we were surprised by a fish whose size was more like a horse's head than by weight known from art stores. The next day we left the city lazily and on dirt roads in clouds of dust we traveled from one place to another towards the Black Sea. One time, while we were just having breakfast on the roof in the mountain scenery, I noticed BMW X5 pulling off the main road. As we were a bit higher, and the driveway was littered with uneven ruts, it took a while for it to park right next to us. A middle-aged couple got out of it and in very bad and poor English were asking excitedly about the car. They drove in there just to look at the old and scratched Defender, risking tearing off all those fancy plastics with which their car was adorned. I went down to them so they could look inside. I don't know how much they understood from my story but they were clearly pleased. When they got into the car, they said something that sounded more or less like this: -we have to change this car to match yours - although it could as well be-do you want to change the car with ours? - because they waited a while for my answer. I just smiled at them and then added: -There is no other way for me. They got into the car and drove away, catching the bumper on the ground. Viki was still ill, and I was tired of sitting behind the wheel all the time. One time, she decided to help me a bit and it was then that it is not known how and where a seven-centimeter thick, sharply cut pile stuck about twenty centimeters into the side of the tire, completely ripping it apart. There were many funny moments, such as a sheep siege on one of the mountain roads or our surprise when, wanting to spend a quiet evening on the beach, we found ourselves in the very center of a never-ending party. There I understood the ambiguous smile that appeared on Romanians' faces as soon as I spoke the two magic words - Vama Veche. There were also strange situations, such as a horse suddenly appearing around the bend on a completely unlit road, which was not particularly concerned about braking with a screech of tires; or just as scary as looking for a ferry in a village where the community looked more like residents of one of the larger necropolises than living people. In the middle of the way our starter broke, and although it was annoying to keep firing the car out of pride, we discovered a great desire to help Romanians thanks to it. It was enough to start stuffing the car, and after a while there were already a lot of people of all ages willing to help. Only later did I invent a wonderful method of starting the car with a hammer - it was enough to synchronize the turning of the key with a simultaneous hitting the metal box. During ten days we traveled nearly four thousand kilometers avoiding highways and main roads. We crossed villages and towns forgotten by the world. We slept on a bed made by me in a hotel under a million stars and climbed steep 2000s. We talked for hours and was silent for hours. Our mainstay, the point to which we returned and from which we left, the center of our lives was this absolutely not perfect, angular car. I could probably tell you many more stories, but why would I do it? Despite the fact that Viki was feeling worse and worse and we shortened our trip, we experienced many beautiful moments that will stay with us. The adventure awaits beyond the couch, and the world is ready to show you a lot, just start your engines and open your eyes, ears, nostrils and hearts wide. I wish you a slow and broken car. This overturns the perspective one hundred and eighty degrees.

The German company La Strada specializes in the construction of the so-called motorhome-vans. Currently, it offers three models, one of which is based on the Fiat Ducato and two on the Mercedes Sprinter. The cheapest option in La Strada's offer is the Avanti model range. There are as many as 6 basic variants, each of which is based on the Fiat Ducato. This is a fairly standard proposition. The distinguishing features of the Avanti series are, however, some characteristic details, such as interestingly stylized sofa headrests , bold color variants of the upholstery and a large selection of furniture fronts. There are, for example, interiors in silver and red colors . The motorhome is equipped with, among others in 70-liter tanks for fresh water and sewage.