Every Hundred Kilometres Counted

The van was a 2008 Ford Transit Connect. Its dashboard claimed roughly 110,000 kilometres. The rust suggested that at least one part of its biography was withholding information, and I suspected the engine might have been replaced.

The rust was beyond what I could repair properly myself. Swiss bodywork prices made Greece the obvious destination because I knew engineers there whose work I trusted.

A single-purpose trip would have been wasteful. I loaded the Honda into the back so its tyres and other repairs could be handled too. On the return journey there would be room for olive oil, honey and whatever else made the economics feel respectable.

The worrying part was the Ford itself. Its tyres were worn almost flat, and it was winter. I knew exactly how far Greece was and how many expensive ways that trip could end between Zurich and the ferry.

Every hundred kilometres felt like a huge success. I became happier and more hopeful each time the van swallowed another one. Then I started worrying about the next.

I crossed Italy, took the ferry and made it to Greece without a toll problem, a breakdown or a tyre deciding to end the experiment. The trip cost real money and a lot of time. The combined repair bill still made more sense than doing the same work in Switzerland.

The van received honest bodywork. The Honda received new tyres and the attention it needed. The same engineer later checked the water-pump replacement I had done on the Ford and confirmed that everything was right.

That validation felt excellent. The pump had survived the journey, the van had carried the motorbike across Europe, and the whole slightly unreasonable logistics plan had worked.

Sometimes confidence returns one hundred kilometres at a time.