Around the World

Most of the team beat Phineas Fog’s time of eighty days. The final teammate crossed into America a few days ago and has touched down at SEA 87 days after flying east towards Iceland and parts beyond.

Team Gobi or Go Home would like to thank the generosity of our donors and sponsors for believing that three people with limited mechanical ability and no wrenches could drive a Fiat to Mongolia.

Above all, dear reader, thank you for following along on our journey. Whether you read to experience our adventure with us or read with a morbid curiosity of seeing if we ever truly broke down, thank you for spending some time perusing Shane’s cynicism and wit or Hans’ enthusiastic descriptions of the strange situations we got into.
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Welcome to the Jungle (Part I)

“There’s some construction on route 49. It is neat to see, but it might slow you down a little bit.”

Australians are masters of understatements. That was Deano’s assessment of the route from Hue to the windy Ho Chi Minh highway. Technically, he was absolutely correct in his statement. Assuming, that by “some” you are to understand “mind-numbing stretches” and by “slow you down a little” he was insinuating “bring your bike to a similar pace as a baby before it learns to crawl”.
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In Over My Head

Note: one third of the Gobis remain abroad. Hans, nit having enough driving on the Mongol Rally has flown to Vietnam and acquired a Honda Win. Currently, he is halfway up the country.

I am incapable of sitting still for more than twelve hours. This is one thing I learned about myself on the Mongol rally. (Don’t worry, this post isn’t going to be a self-reflective male version of Eat, Pray, Love.) One thing I have also learned is to attempt to be more spontaneous.
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Neither Rain nor Sleet

Tasks expand to fill the time allotted. Consider writing a letter. A businesswoman, with five minutes for the task, may quickly write out a letter. Her grandpa might, on the other hand, spend the better part of a day writing a letter. Finding glasses, getting the paper, and fussing with the fountain pen all take time.

I wish I could write a letter in a day. Time expands while traveling to such great extents that it takes several days to write a letter.
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Kindle Fired

I would like to apologize for the spelling and grammar in some of my previous posts. In a rush to get them up, I didn’t proofread them. Later, reading them back to Shane and Roberta, I hung my head in shame.

The Android autocorrect is an interesting beast. It has a limited vocabulary, not recognizing dirty words. ‘Piss’ and ‘pee’ are out of its dictionary. However, it corrects ‘damn’ into ‘damnable’. This amuses me to no end, and may influence how I use the term. ‘Damnable’ does sound cooler.
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Parting of the Fellowship

Teams had been rolling into UB for the past several weeks. Mr. Rob, founder of the rally, looked weary of the hotel lobby that he had spent so much time in, listening to the same slow jam versions of already slow rock songs that used to (perhaps still does) plague the office workers at G5. Few people listen to ‘Imagine’ and think, “You know what this song needs? To be slowed down by a large factor and played just on a piano without vocals.” Few think it, but the ones who act on that thought should be shot.

Anyway, music notwithstanding, the lobby of the four-star Chinggis Khan hotel was packed with excitement. Dirt bag adventurers rolled in from the steppe, parking their cars in the VIP slots (which, actually, were reserved for rally cars). Just a few steps away, Mongolian wedding parties, shuffled in and out of the hotel. The backgrounds of their wedding photos will likely be cluttered with broken down Fiat Puntos, piles of used camping gear, and unwashed ralliers.
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