On The Road With
Toine Rodenburg
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I — I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. — Robert Frost
Once upon a time in Regensburg, Germany, a shiny red fire truck was the toast of the town. Children loved to see it pass by. Families waved and felt secure, knowing it was there. After many years and many journeys, the red truck was classified as obsolete. There were newer trucks, with more advanced pumps and hoses, and more efficient engines. It seemed like the end of the road, until hundreds of kilometers away, in a small village on the Portuguese Riviera, I was dreaming of family adventures on the roads of Europe.
I definitely wasn’t a car-rental guy. Nor was I inclined to book a succession of cookie-cutter hotel rooms, and miss all of the fun of being in the middle of everything. One day I learned of a red fire truck in Regensburg, Germany..
Suddenly I had an idea: What if I refitted this German fire truck, transforming it into a offroad expedition truck? My family could roam far and wide, from Spain to the North Cape in Norway, dig for gold in Sweden and enjoy the gentle ocean breezes of Gilleleje in Denmark.
My entrepreneurial spirit took over, and I began to map out a blueprint for the red fire truck that was soon to become a shiny blue offroad expedition truck. Working with teams of craftsmen, I replaced or renewed everything from the drivetrain to the tires. Captain’s chairs appeared in the cabin, and a crystal-clear windshield was readied for the dramatic vistas my family would soon explore.
One day the offroad expedition truck was ready for its first drive, and the anticipation was electric. Would the shiny blue offroad expedition truck be a white elephant, a project that I would be teased about for years to come? Or was something truly unique and special being born, a vessel for collecting memories, a time machine to explore the great stories of Europe’s past?
The ignition turned, and the new German motor rumbled to life. The percussion of pistons quickened and the offroad expedition truck accelerated down the road, as I leaned into the circumference of the massive new steering wheel. It was an unforgettable moment, and the start of many thrilling adventures.
Inside the living quarters, where a labyrinth of channels had once directed pressurized water outward, my family prepared for life on the road. We dubbed it “the living box,” and its functionality was a reflection of my respect for practical design. No square centimeter was wasted; everything had a purpose. Across the board, the quality was top-notch.
Today, when we see this view, we know something extraordinary is on the horizon. The windshield is a cinematic screen that captures every scene, projecting a preview of each new town, new road, new voyage. At the end of the storyline, there is only one regret:
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both . .
