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Our final day would be leisurely. We were under three hours from the ferry and had five hours to get there. Antwerp was the only real obstacle in our path. The traffic was horrendous, but we managed to sneak through the quieter way. The faced a toll, the queue of which was longer than all but one border (Moldova-Romania). Seemingly, the Dutch don’t believe in service stations so we swung off into Steenbergen, the final resting place of Dambuster, Guy Gibson. It was scorching

We knew our penultimate day would be tough. We had a long way to go and a suitable amount of time to get there. With the temperature hitting 28 around 9am, a day on the autoroute was the last thing we needed. However, Jase pushed on and we arrived in Luxembourg around lunchtime. The only thing of note being the amount of Lithuanian truckers. Loads of them. Luxembourg City is odd. Firstly, it’s another of those places that wafts its signs in the vague direction of car parks bu

A hand burst out of the toll booth. No words, just a sign saying €1. That’s all it took to leave Croatia. The border facilities were still there due to its recent admission into the EU, but we drove through without any further stops. If you’ve ever read a children’s book about some small, fictional European principality or nation, it’s probably based on parts of Slovenia. Rolling hills, dense forests, ornately carved hay sheds and clustered villages of borderline alpine archi

With Rosemary carrying us high into the olive-clad hills above Trigier, we got to see this part of Dalmatian coast in all its sub-kissed glory. At a service station, Ian completed the holy trinity of Balkan food. Pljeskavica in Prizren, Ćevapi in Podgorica and Mostar, and Burek in Croatia. Our first destination was a UNESCO World Heritage site, one of Croatia’s most famous natural wonders. Plitvice lakes are understandably famous and, despite staying in tourist-heavy Trogir l

Emerald rivers, mirror-like lakes, honey stalls and signs for Tito’s bunker guided us through the heart of Bosnia and into Herzegovina. We were back in the land of fervent tourism. The UNESCO World Heritage old town of Mostar was buzzing with throngs of visitors; its cobbles well worn to perilously shiny. But there are many reason why people flock here. It’s beautiful, with real old-world charm evident among its souvenir stalls. Oh, and the Stari Most, the world-famous arched

This was a day of stunning scenery as we travelled between two Balkan capitals. In deepest Montenegro, we turned off the main route and ventured along some of the country’s panoramic roads. The first twisted up and down hills, surrounded by wildflower pastures in Swiss-style landscapes. On the way up Then came the Sedlo Pass. With rugged peaks topped with glaciers and remnants of the winter snow still by the side of the road, it was jaw-dropping beautiful: vast, dramatic and

We’d seen the Albanian mountains from Kukës, but we were immediately immersed in them after breakfast at our hotel, the owner of which was a proper character. Europe’s southernmost glaciers were in view as the towering peaks surrounded the route. With Craig at the wheel, we twisted and turned up and down the hills. The roads were interesting, with large ruts appearing regularly. However, the views were astounding. At the top of one peak, we came across what could only be desc

Snow-capped mountains and volcanic peaks guided us towards Prizren, Kosovo’s second city. Parking up, we spotted Rosemary had a flat tyre. That could wait. It wouldn’t be a long job, although we would need a replacement. Prizren With a history stretching back to Byzantine rule more than a thousand years ago, its centre was stunning. A small stone bridge arched over a clear-water river. The 17th-century Sinan Pasha Mosque held sway in the old town, as we browsed trinket stalls

Southern Serbia looked beautiful as we powered to the North Macedonia border, where we were slightly stiffed for €50. The border guard didn’t accept our insurance policy as insurance and insisted we bought a green card. We explained that our insurer told us we didn’t need it, but he kept our passports and told us to come back with local insurance. Ian’s haggling was limited. There was a 15-day option for €50 and he asked if there was a one-day pass. There wasn’t. He handed ov

On a journey through time and space, we left Constanta following signs for 23 August, 2 May, Neptune, Jupiter and Venus. Most of these were Romanian beach resorts and we stopped off at the last one, the slightly famous Vamă Veche. It has a very laidback vibe and appealed to us all. Ian called it his Zihuatanejo (reference from Shawshank Redemption). Jim said: “I don’t mind hippies when they’ve got beach bars.” Laidback Vama Veche The Bulgarian border was so easy as there were

The final day before a rest was a testing one. Ian’s navigational skills failed him on the edge of Chişinău, causing an unwanted detour down rugged back streets; and Jim forgot which side of the road to drive on, while actually driving. There was a lot of work being done on the roads and we found ourselves jolted on to terrible rough surfaces quite frequently. Then they got even worse. Huge holes, some covered with sand - you know, that secure and solid material… sand. Weavin

After a minor panic that we’d lost the V5, the Moldovan border appeared remarkably quickly. It was one of the easier ones Ian and Jim had crossed - a check of the documents and a cursory scan of the boot and we were done. There was the time Craig kept saying something inappropriate out of the window, but we’ll gloss over that! With an official vignette procured, despite trying to walk away having paid for but not received it, we were in our seventh country. The roads were ter

Ploughing through the flooded roads of Satu Mare, Rosemary longed for the mountains. She wouldn’t have long to wait. On the road north, the scenery became remarkably alpine. It would be a beautiful drive with no borders, apart from a visit to one. Sighetu Marmației overlooks the Tisa River, the same we crossed in Tokaj. It also overlooks Ukraine. It was a shame to be so close and not go in, especially for Ian, but we opted to play it safe - the news of the Russian drone in Ga

Our intention was bold. We wanted to cross two borders and make it to the eastern edges of Hungary. That would mean crossing the hilly heart of Slovakia. The Monday morning roads were busy and there was constant rain. We passed sporadic glimpses of colour, mostly the fields of blue poppies, grown for the baking industry. Crossing the border into Slovakia, we were immediately met with poor roads - including one that caused a huge roar from Rosemary’s underbelly. This was at Bo

The storm clouds were gathering as we headed into central Europe. As we followed the winding Julius Valley beside the White Main river out of Germany and into our third country, we prioritised fuel for Rosemary Ford. The scores on the doors were impressive: one tank of diesel from Selby to the Czech Republic. At an Ono petrol station, it was o-no. First, we went into the lorry lane and the nozzle didn’t fit; then the proper pump was fitful at best. Jim - who, let’s be honest,

With the sound of I’ll Never Get a Scrumpy Here by the Wurzels whirling around our minds, Rosemary Ford - Scottish registered - powered her way along the Dutch and German road system some 414 miles to Bamburg. Yes, she finished the day with a squirrel-like squeak (Ger: Fluffenshaft irritantnoizen) but that’s why we are calling this Day Two - it sounds more of an achievement. As we waited at border control, we were asked by an official if we had Scottish passports. Jim parped

Our first goal was to make it to the ferry. Anything after would be a bonus. Typically, Jim wasn’t where he usually was so required picking up enroute. At least this was on the way for once. Then, after the joys of driving through Hull on a Friday evening, we were on. There was the small matter of finding out our magnetic UK bumper plate didn’t have anywhere to stick to, but the ferry shop came to our rescue. Winning a £20 bar tab at the onboard quiz put paid to our intention

24 countries, four men, three weeks, one car. There are bound to be magical moments and, well, let's just say ones that are less enjoyable. From seeing a Beastie Boy to watching football in the Balkans, there are many things to look forward to. We've also known each other decades, so there shouldn't be any surprises - but what we already know about one another would cause dread in most others. Have a look below as we preview the good and the ugly sides to the trip.

So, now you know who we are, you're probably asking where we're going. The answer? Well, why don't we let Manic Mondeo member Craig tell you all about it. Week One Week Two Week Three Route map

Introducing your intrepid travellers who will journey through 24 countries in just 22 days.