Last days with my car
Due to the global spread of the virus, it is not the best time for overseas travels these days. Nonetheless, I’m largely sticking to my original itineraries. I am moving eastward, ultimately arriving in Vladivostok in the Russian Far East. And unfortunately, I had decided that I would leave my car around Europe and turn into a backpacker by the time I visit Central Asia. The purpose is not to throw the car away or leave it behind, but it is to be able to take it again after this long term journey.
For many days, I was exploring Greece in Google Maps in the satellite view, looking for a good city to spend my last few days with the car. I wanted a place where it is spacious so that I can do a big clean-up inside the car, against some scenic backgrounds so that I can take the last good shots with it. But Athens was too crowded, and taking a ferry to an island would take much more time just for the travels. The city of Corinth, a small and historical city by the sea, seemed like the optimal option.
For two days, I was basically taking out everything I had in the car and choosing the minimal necessary items to go into two backpacks. Aside from some fun findings from the excavation, this process brought me back to the time when I bought this car and moved into it from my then flat in Virginia, US. It was right before I began this journey. And it made me remember how the interior configurations have evolved over the last few years.
I usually do not like giving names to my belongings. But almost every overlander I met on the road has given human names to their cars or trucks. I guess bike overlanders might have given names to their bikes too. I can understand why we want to give friendly names to the things that we deeply care about or depend upon. But I didn’t like the fact that when we personify objects (or pets), it keeps us from looking at them as they are. I just wanted to treat my car as a convenient means of transportation, and something that can carry lots of luggage for me.
Yet, the thought of having to leave it soon is giving me a wide spectrum of, mostly sad emotions. It is the only ‘thing’ that had also been everywhere I had been. It has given me the most personal space in the busiest city centers, chaotic old markets, and in the wild. It has offered me a safe place to stay in snowy mountain ranges, in small towns with no accommodation options, and at a country border when the entry was temporarily delayed or rejected.
It helps me to think that leaving it now is the best thing I can do to take it back later. But for now, I don’t know exactly when it will happen and under what conditions.
@ Corinth, Greece, March 2, 2020
