Heading towards Samara

Out of the tent at 5 am, on the road at 5:30. Silver mileage: 68580. We were pulled over twice but only had to pay the bribe once and it was only 500 rubles this time, mostly because of Alisha’s charm. “Good-bye my baby” were his parting words. We got stuck in the sand by the side of the road (which doesn’t bode well for Kazakhstan and Mongolia) but the good news is our cars are so small they are pretty easy to push out of harms way. We had lunch by a dilapidated church in some nameless town off the M5 between Moscow and Samara where we were besieged by a hoard of teenage boys on bikes. They were at first too cool for pistachios but soon we lured them in and by the end we were discussing our route in broken Ruske and for sure they were making us say obscene things in Russian. Pretty sure we joined the Russian version of the Pen15 club (“a sphincter says what” in Russian….?)

Because we can learn from our mistakes we pulled off the road much earlier and found a beautiful campsite in a meadow that was sufficiently out of sight and off the main road. (and got our first taste of off roading in our little cars). The bugs were still huge and in attack mode but we remained unmolested for the most part for the evening.

The Micra fleet is holding up well although not without some afflictions. Happy Pallatsky lost a bumper (we managed to tie it back on) and seems to be invested with bees, Cratesky smells of rotten vegetables and sour milk, and Senior is being forced to carry a larger and larger load but is doing well with his mustachioed face-lift.

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