The route out of Ahmedabad should have been simple. However, Google chose this moment to throw a hissy fit and our 'blue dot' jumped around town leaving us to turn it back to the old school, whipping out HKCs compass and setting off on a SE direction. This worked for all of 10 seconds before predictably we started gagging and stalling our way through a chicken market in the backstreets in our attempts to reach the expressway. Just as the smell reached unbearable levels, Google kicked in and we found our way out to the Expressway. The road looked smooth, no pot holes, no bumps or lumps just open kilometres of easy driving stretched ahead...
At least this plan worked for longer than the compass idea but as we know all good things come to an end and after c.5 mins of the purest road you can dream of we reached a toll booth. With HKC having spied a sign suggesting auto-rickshaws may not be good enough for a road of this quality, the team approached the toll with trepidation. As a private vehicle we normally sail through Indian tolls without paying and so we cunningly thought that approaching at speed and shouting 'Private vehicle' may lead to all barriers removed and the blissful continuation of the expressway. Alas the barriers remained down, our shouting fell on deaf ears and a well dressed young man told us in perfect English that we had to drive back the way we had come. What's that!? A government official suggesting we drive the wrong way down an expressway?! Welcome to India. And so we weren't allowed the right way down the expressway but we were forced to drive perilously down the hard shoulder in the wrong direction just to satisfy Indian bureaucracy. This stint of driving into traffic seemed to invigorate a new side in Gee's driving style and soon she was driving the wrong way around roundabouts and overtaking on blind corners willy nilly leading to vocal cries of 'she does what she wants'. Nevertheless, we made steady (and safe) progress, but as light started to fade outside and lights failed to materialise from any of Granny or Mr Mercury's beams, the team were keeping a beady eye out for hotels before darkness enveloped us. And so it was with great relief that we spied 'Hotel Tapi' on the outskirts of Vadodara. Unfortunately, the team picked up more culture in learning that just because a place calls itself a hotel, does not necessarily mean it accommodates people. In fact, 'Hotel Tapi' was just a vegetarian restaurant and so the team were forced to head into the pitch blackness in a once again desperate search for a bed for the night. In a rare feat of sensibility, Vadodara actually had street lamps and so after some initial wahhing from Fiona about how dark it was (to be fair, bloody scary), the team coasted into rather nice lodgings for the night and once again admonished themselves for not getting the headlights fixed for the 5th day in a row.
Day 6. Another early rise. Bags loaded onto rickshaws by 7.15. Breakfast toast ordered. On the plus side it was a huge luxury to have room service breakfast. On the down side, after waiting 45 minutes for our brekky, no one was surprised to see slightly burnt toast and jam be brought to the room but soon carcinogens were consumed and we were 'on the road again' in no time. A smooth, idyllic morning with no breakdowns, good quality roads and breathtaking views of a wildlife sanctuary. As you probably expect by now this bliss could not last and soon everything started to go wrong in quite spectacular fashion. Granny had become increasingly loud during the day leading to the now standard speculation from all as to what could be her most recent ailment as we filled our babies up with petrol. Then, just as we made to pull away, a couple of locals began pointing at the back of her. Initially considering this to be a standard request for a photo, we hopped out of Granny only to find that the silencer and exhaust had actually fallen off. Indeed, this was not ideal but on the one hand, at least it was now easy to figure out the problem. On the other though, seeing her whole exhaust lying on the floor was a new low for how bad these rickshaws can get and caused choruses of laughter amongst the locals as we wheeled her into the next door mechanic exhaust in hand. However, every cloud has a silver lining and this particular lining was that we discovered our lights did in fact function the whole time, but that with four university degrees (maybe one more to come when Rockstar eventually grows up) between us we still hadn't possibly fathomed that we might need to flick two switches not just one to get the lights to work. Pats on the back all round. Still, with new exhausts attached we entered Maharastra thrilled at the prospect of beers (Gujarat was a dry state) but quickly encountered two new forms of difficulty. Firstly, the roads started to resemble an Oscar Pistorious testimonial (full of holes) and secondly we appeared to have reached trucking Mecca with trucks on trucks on trucks leading to some high risk, low reward overtakes in the midst of crater sized pot holes. No permanent damage seemed to arise however, and soon enough we arrived in the small town of Sakri feeling slightly bruised but absolutely chuffed partly at our biggest day of driving so far, but mainly just at the fact that both of our rickshaws seemed to have all of their parts firmly attached.
Day 7 and what an absolute bruiser she was. With an initial arrival time in Ellora estimated for 11-12, we eventually rolled in about 4.45 hungry, dehydrated and despondent after the normally reliable Freddy went through his teenage rebellion phase and decided to break down every 30 minutes. We can't even recall exactly what happened or what was fixed. Already day 7 seems just a blur of mechanics, changing tyres, screwing on exhausts, pumping up tyres, fending off creepy locals and generally not making any progress towards where we wanted to go. Amidst the mechanics and marriage proposals, Rockstar apparently thought it was her turn to try some rally driving, 2 wheeling it round a very steep hairpin bend along our mountain route - justification? 3 wheels seemed a bit too boring. Eventually we navigated this Indian style assault course to arrive in Ellora. The punishment did not stop there however, when as soon as we rolled into the hotel car park a local started informing us of all the things he could already see wrong with our babies and promptly called the local mechanic. As it turns out, Mr. Mercury and Granny were created just 30km from Ellora in Aurangabad. But this wasn't all we learnt from the local mechanic as a fun filled 4 hour mechanical session led to a wealth of learning for all involved. Firstly, our rickshaws are over 10 years old. Secondly, we had been driving in imminent danger of blowing up due to a leaky petrol tube. Thirdly our carborator was in fact designed for a motorbike and not for auto-rickshaws. Tick, tick, tick. We could go on and on but we will instead attach the list of things that need replacing just on Granny to highlight extent of the problems.
Faults with granny
New carburettor
New silencer
Clean the carbon block in engine piston
Check both rear wheels
Three new cables - accelerator wire, clutch wire, gear wire
New battery
In spite of their problems and inability to do as they are told, we still love our rickshaws dearly and the upshot of a late night visit to the electricians was that we now finally have functioning speakers meaning we can start blasting out the toonz and introduce rural India to the joys of Taylor Swift. We should also say that the locals in Ellora have been exceptionally friendly with several giving up their whole evenings to help us fix, rewire, translate, chat and drink chai with just to help us out. We continue to be in awe at just how friendly the people are and just how completely undoable this whole trip would be without the unending help and friendliness of the locals and so for that we thank you India.
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