Preperation, Preperation, Preperation. Pt1

With a car all sorted out, we just merely needed to get it checked over and serviced by someone who knows what they're doing. And sort a roofrack. And some extra wheels. With better tyres. And some Jerry cans. And a sump guard. And visas. And camping gear. So pretty much sod all really. Should be a doddle. We're practically ready to leave!

Three men and a Perodua. And a baby.

With a car sorted a good seven months before the off, everything is tickety-boo in the TKOEB camp. The festive season is in full flow and everyone is gathering for our traditional Boxing Day football clash with our local rivals. Which with the venue being their ground a couple of miles from our own, gives us the excuse for a big old pub crawl on our way down to the game. A pub at top of the high street is our start point and we sup a couple of pints whilst waiting for the rest of the gang to arrive so the crawl to begin.

This can...er...Khan Only End Badly. Plus 1.

Of course, once you’ve managed to get yourself into an endeavour such as we have, you tend to discuss it a fair bit. Mostly because you need to, after all, driving to Mongolia isn’t quite like your average trip to the shops. 

This also leads to other people finding out about what you intend to do and in the circles we mix in, ie. drunken football ones, this usually means most of the chatter we encounter gleefully revolves about how horribly we’re going to be killed to death.

Just Us Left Then?

Faces pressed enviously to the glass, we watch through the first floor window of the Tsagaanuur border control offices as the last three remaining Mongol Rally cars are photographed by the customs guy in his nice suit and waved into Mongolia.

Lucky bastards.