DATELINE:Brussels, Belgium
Remarkably, EuroCoaster'13 went smoothly.
After all, there were several variables and opportunities where the outside world could, -could- have tossed a wrench into our travel plans (I would have said itinerary, but we really didn't have one).
There were no flat tires.
We never ran out of gas.
A tow truck was never called.
There were no Pirates
The car did not crash.
Becky was the only airbag deployed.
In fact, the car escaped without a scratch.
The only visible signs of wear and tear is some good ole' European road mud.
On our final morning in Europe, we awoke in Brussels with the task of getting the C70 back to a Volvo dealer, who would process the car for shipping to the United States. Brussels is one of a dozen spots to leave the car behind and flee.
Scott thought condensing all the bags in the trunk of the car, which held all the valuables we collected along the way, would be the most difficult task.
He was wrong.
Zipping the suitcase was the easiest as we soon found out.
After leaving our Belgium hotel behind, the GPS started to sputter.
"Make a U-turn when possible."
"Lost satillite signal."
"Drive 100 feet and make a right turn," while the digital display showed the car traveling straight.
That should have been a clue.
After navigating to a Volvo dealership we passed late yesterday night, Adam pulled in to drop the vehicle off.
This wasn't your average car dealer.
First, the Volvo store was built into a downtown city block. This "urban environment" had no driveway, outdoor lot, grassy area or trees. Instead, it looked as if we were pulling into a parking garage. Above the dealership were apartment homes.
As Adam pulled in, a service manager tossed his hands into the air, waving us deeper and deeper inside the poorly lit garage. Soon, all daylight disappeared as we crawled out of the car and found ourselves inside a service area. A low playing radio in the corner crackled with foreign voices, while girls in bathing suits graced the facades of metal cabinets. A pin-up model transverses all language barriers.
Since our amazing race had just ended, we took the photo above and below.
Scott hopped out of the trunk and rushed inside to hand over the keys.
Adam unloaded the luggage.
After waiting behind the counter for ten minutes, Scott realized that "Rogers Volvo" was not happy to see us.
First, our sales representative, Tilly, could not be found.
Second, speaking English was a challenge.
And then it all made sense.
Tilly doesn't work here.
This place does not do Overseas Delivery drop off.
WE ARE AT THE WRONG VOLVO DEALER. In fact, we're at a feuding dealership of the Volvo store we should be visiting.
Scott ran from the interior of the showroom back out to the garage with keys in hand.
"It's not over!" Scott shouted at Adam. "We need to go down the street!"
Panicked, Scott dashed into a maintenance bay while Adam reloaded the bags into the trunk.
"WHERE IS THIS?" Scott asked while holding a slick Volvo brochure that touted how easy it is to drop your car off at any of Volvo's pre-determined locations.
"HOW DO WE GET HERE?" Scott said pointing to an address and raising his voice at an auto mechanic who stood ready to perform an oil change on a station wagon.
"Down the street," the mechanic said.
"Dude, you gotta drive," Adam said, admitting his nerves were shot.
As we went to leave, another challenge appeared. Our exit path was now blocked by other Volvos who pulled in behind the C70. There was no open path to leave. We were blocked.
Scott motioned to the mechanic that we were trapped. While he kindly went to move a car in order to clear an opening, Scott performed a 180-degree turn in the tight quarters of the garage. Half of the turn was completed on a steep ramp leading to an underground garage.
"Thank God this is not a clutch," Scott thought while backing up on the ramp that felt like a 45-degree angle.
After a 20 minute drive down the road, a call to the phone number listed in our Volvo guide book and a chat with the factory in Sweden, we arrived at Volvo Dealer #2 (the phone number in the guide was wrong. In fact, after calling the listed number without success, a woman called Scott back and shouted at him in a foreign language. Sweet! Scott just made a prank call!)
Upon arrival at the new dealership, Tilly met Scott and Adam and got right to work .
Tilly quickly left the pair left alone in the showroom in order to complete paperwork.
Meantime, Scott fook this as an opportunity to play Volvo Sales Agent.
If Adam's new Juke wasn't enough, Adam acted as if he was in the market for a new vehicle.
After an inspection, Scott gave Tilly the keys. The car was grounded and our adventure had effectively come to an end.
Next, the first of three long plane rides to awaited us.
First from Belgium back to Copenhagen. Then to Chicago. And finally Cleveland.
When a NASA Space Shuttle came home to our backyard in Florida, the spacecraft would land without breaks. The vehicle was a glider, allowing the laws of physics to decide where on the runway it would finally stop. And when that moment happened, a fight control manager at the Johnson Space Center in Houston would announce "Wheel Stop."
After 1,951 miles, "Wheel Stop C70."
NEXT:
Home Again
