For years, it had been my dream to move back home. Although I hadn’t actually lived in Namibia for 16 years, I’d always called it home, because “home is where your heart is” or “home is where your roots are” or, in the words of Pumba in The Lion King, “Home is where your rump is.” I guess all these sayings are true. It’s whatever place you long to be; and, for me, that was with my family back in Windhoek, Namibia. I had always had a great passion for Willys Jeeps; some might even call it an addiction. Over the years, living in SA, I’d put together quite a collection of flat-fender jeeps and parts, which made my move back home a bit of a mission.
A week before my departure, Charlotte, a friend, came to assist me with the task of packing. She was put in charge of selling some of the household valuables, while I arranged transport for my Jeeps. During this transport planning, I had a thought. Why not embark on this venture in one of my beloved Jeeps, and make it a trip I would never forget? I shared the idea with Charlotte, and she, too, was keen to take on such a venture. So it happened that a trip was put together: a journey in one of my CJ-2As, from Cape Town to Windhoek.
The trip would take us up the West Coast all the way to Alexander Bay, and, from there, we would head northeast through the Richtersveld to cross the border at the Sendelingsdrift pont. Once in Namibia, we would meet my brother at Aus and travel in convoy up to Windhoek – and the aim was to avoid the highway and stick to gravel roads wherever possible.
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