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We reached the
border and were amazed to be waved through at both the Hungarian section, and
by the Serbs. Normally this could take up to an hour.
Advising Mussy to
take it easy we headed onto the main road to Belgrade. As we approached a
regular speed-trap location I told him to slow to 80kmph. Sure enough, there
were the police and a gaggle of fans. What I wasn’t expecting was police
reaction to us: they desperately waved to us to speed up! So Mussy applied
some ‘gas’ and we were soon belting along at 200. “This cannot last”
was my thought as we had the same reaction at the 2nd police checkpoint a few
km later, and I thought I was correct when approaching the 3rd police trap at
200 the laser alarms and jammers exploded into life.
Mussy slammed on
the brakes to take us out of ‘license losing’ territory and then switched
off the jammers. Still too fast I thought as the police indicated us to pull
over. “You were only doing 130! You must speed up!” was what the police
said to a stunned Mussy. So to the policeman’s delight we put on our
flashing lights and sirens and pulled away as fast as we could. It seemed
the Serbs were the opposite of the Germans and Austrians!
From a previous
job, I know the road to Belgrade like the back of my hand, and was able to
tell Mussy when to go slow; the road is in a very poor condition in places.
One such place was a flyover near Novi Sad. The camber changes on the top and
tries to fling an unsuspecting driver to the right. We slowed to about 60mph
and still got a wobble. We later found out that the Rolls Royce Phantom was
not so lucky and tried taking the bend at full speed. It was wiped out,
having spun and destroyed both ends of the car and had a small fire. Luckily
no-one was hurt. Worse news was that the car, under 8 weeks old, only had
third party insurance in Serbia. Ouch!
As we approached
Belgrade we started to see the crowds grow, with all the bridges being lined
with flag waving fans. As we approached the city centre the traffic was mad:
everyone was flashing us and honking their horns. The problem was that the
city centre was obviously gridlocked, and we were moving nowhere. “In for a
penny, in for a pound” Mussy quoted aloud as we applied the lights and
sirens in the city centre and drove in the opposite lane of the road. As we
reached the top we had amazed police staring at us: two bald guys in a
Porsche with sirens and flashing lights going, driving down the wrong side of
the main road into town. As we went around the corner, we saw the problem: at
least 30,000 people crammed into the small city centre. The final few hundred
metres were dangerous and slow as the people were crammed so tightly against
us even sardines would have commented.
Eventually we
were able to park and get out the car – though opening the door was
difficult due to the crush of people. Mussy learnt a valuable lesson: do not
give out freebies: everyone wants one! It almost caused a riot as people
tried getting hold of our stickers and cards. Lesson learnt we made our way
into the City Hall for lunch. We were in the top 10 and almost at the end of
our European leg. The crowd was mad: so many people, but really good natured:
Belgrade was fantastic, and many Gumballers were heard saying that they
wished they were staying in Belgrade for the night before flying to Thailand.
I was happy as I
met a friend stationed as a diplomat in Belgrade and he brought his
Communications Officer with him: a stunning lass and former model in NY who
promised to bring her friends to a party later that evening. Several
Gumballers fell in love with her and wanted her to fly with them on the next
leg!
There was then a
terrifying run to the airport to load all the cars doing the US and Thai
stages onto the transport planes. There were many ‘street racer’ types in
battered old Saabs and motorbikes who wanted to race us to the airport. There
were accidents and some injuries as these people sadly failed to realise that
the Gumball is not about short little sprints and racing: it is about
surefooted, sustained high quality driving and great parties. Mussy had his
revenge on me (for scaring him in the rain the previous day). We exited the
city extremely quickly (as I know the city well) and after a few hair-raising
minutes we were at the airport. Most amazing point of the journey was when a
pillion on a motorbike swivelled in his seat (almost falling off in front of
us in the process) to get a better view. Truly insane!
At the airport
there was more mayhem (including a crash of a few ‘wannabe’ cars on the
approach road, but we were there, and for us, the European leg of Gumball was
over.
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