I'd bought a Ford Escort van off ebay for 21 quid
because the seller couldn't spell "Escort" and had listed it under antiques. I took this mighty chariot on a jaunt around Europe in the summer of 2004, figuring that if it broke down I wouldn't exactly be out of pocket if I had to abandon it somewhere.

That van got me to France where a dodgy roadside meal gave me the shits, and I spent a feverish 2 nights in a German roadside layby venting liquid vengeance from my tattered arsehole. During those fevered dreams a pair of Turks tried to steal the van, but hadn't countered on the greasy English tourist sleeping in the back, leaping out at them completely naked wielding a 22mm spanner. I nursed the van and my fragile guts to the Netherlands, where an old friend nursed me back to strength with chicken soup while her mental boyfriend ragged my van ragged around Arnhem, whooping in delight at having the steering wheel on the wrong side of the road.

Revived, I nipped up through Denmark and crossed the various ferries and bridges to Sweden, where other travellers would strip naked and bathe in the lakes next to the petrol stations. But it was in Gothenburg where my van let me down, splitting its fuel tank and spilling my precious skandinavian-priced diesel all the way down the hilly road. Two packs of Hubba bubba patched it up, and I limped it to the nearest ferry terminal to get back to Denmark and start heading back to Blighty.

The ferry came and went, and myself and a pathetic dribble of other cars disembarked in northern Jutland on a foggy August evening. As the sun went down the other cars left me behind, and I found myself alone on a dark road, the pathetic candles of my headlights barely penetrating into the misty gloom.

I crawled along at a snail's place, feeling like a solitary Fred in the Mystery Machine, when I saw it. A mighty shape lumbered through the fog, all lumps and tentacles. I slowed the van to a squeaky halt, letting the engine idle as the beast moved forward. Then its face broke through the mist and it stood, staring at me with cold, soulless eyes.

A massive fucking moose, right there, in the middle of the road on a foggy night, all antlers and muscle. I was entranced and terrified. If the beast charged, its massive bulk would make mincemeat of my rusty tinfoil van, and with no-one else on the road it could be hours before anyone came to my aid. I would have shat myself if I hadn't completely exhausted my shitting capabilities back in Germany.

We stared at each other for minutes that felt like hours, my ropey old diesel grumbling to itself and the massive moose blowing steam from its nostrils that merged with the fog. Then, as mysteriously as it had appeared, it turned around and plodded off, vanishing in the night.
( Grrrmachine the indifference engine, Mon 13 Jul 2015, 11:15, 2 replies)

majestic

( rofl harris, Mon 13 Jul 2015, 12:40, closed)

Couldn't have put it better...
(TheManofScience, Mon 13 Jul 2015, 15:00, closed)

I've seen the movie...wasn't as good.

( edjogs Collared doves are shit., Mon 13 Jul 2015, 18:02, closed)