For those of you who claim to be jealous of Team Ramrod, you should know that while you were asleep in your beds your intrepid explorers were suffering at the DVLA (like the DMV, but British) on one of the hottest days anywhere, ever (go ahead, look it up). Our trip to the commercial and beureaucratic hive known as Peterborough was difficult, hot, invovled MORE getting lost (this time on foot!). The DVLA, like its stateside equivilent, is a place where dreams go to die, as ours almost did when after 25 quid and several hours of travel we are informed by the friendly attendent that the V379 Registration for Temproary (shh) Export form requires my passport, which at the time was safe in Great Abington, several hours away. I plead for mercy and get away with my washington state driver's license, and we leave with the V379 firmly in our grasp.
We also visited camping supply stores, which yielded among other things the ever important twin 25 liter water cans (plastic, really), which gets me excited. We travel home each clutching one of the containers, as the two girls behind us chatter about how silly americans sound. They do a pretty good imitation. We try and think of clever interjections; one of us does, but is too chicken to use it.
IN ADDITION: we have spoken BY VOICE to one intrepid half Team Newyorkistan, disturbing her tax-disc-ery in the process. The Newyorkistanians, made famous now by their publicity-hogging NPR interview
, share the dubious title of American Mongol Ralliers with us (and a few others). Tommorow -- we meet face to face! CAN YOU FEEL THE NOISE!?!?!