Chattisgargh was a thorn in our side. With it being situated in the middle of India it involved a massive detour on roads that had more holes than a block of swiss cheese. With Lassi under strain she could not take it anymore, stalling on gear changes and losing power she refused to go on. Stranded in a small town we dropped by the local mechanic to get Lassi’s rig in her prime. The sun fell and repairs took place as we hanged with our new friends.

In a few hours Lassi’s roar was back with a victorious puff of smoke. Still with no second gear she was ready and able to haul us out of Chattisgargh. As we attempted to jump in the car to get on the road the locals would not allow insisting it was too dangerous. This time it wasn’t a weaving truck or a stray cow that would be the problem, but a local terrorist group blocking roads and owning the highways like something out of Mad Max. Still trying to go our new friend tells us of his run in with the Guerillas, making his way out of a hairy situation in a hail of bullets. Hearing this and more we reluctantly stayed the night with doors closed and one eye open.

As we took off the next morning we looked closely at every local wondering if they could have been the one waiting for us at night. With Lassi purring happily under the bonnet we were thankful that she and the friendly locals kept us out of trouble.

Campbell “Handsome” Brown.


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