My Mercedes is Not for Sale: From Amsterdam to Ouagadougou...An Auto-Misadventure Across the Sahara [Paperback]

A road trip across the Sahara in a battered 17-year-old Mercedes with 136,000 (at least) miles on it doesn't seem like the kind of trip to undertake alone. Particularly if you don't know the first thing about car repair.

Nevertheless, Dutch journalist Bergeijk can't get the idea out of his head after attending a friend's wedding in Ougadougou in West Africa. Falling into the back of a clapped-out wreck of a Mercedes, held together with rust and baling wire, he discovers the car was originally from Holland.

He's always wanted to drive a Mercedes, so why not across the desert? Determined to have an adventure and make a profit - determined being the operative word - Bergeik sets out with copies of "Sahara Overland," a "Lonely Planet" guide and a Mercedes repair manual that might as well be in Greek.

He encounters lost souls, con men, thieves, low lifes, cut throats and tourists. Little is as he expects it to be. "Or, to put it another way, wherever you go in the world, sooner or later you run into other people and then the party's over."

Entering the desert, he refuses a guide. Within minutes, of course, he's lost and bogged in sand to the axles in a minefield. Yes, a literal mine field. After being rescued, he gets a plate fixed to the bottom of his car to keep sand out of delicate parts and hires a guide.

The guide is a supercilious, chain-smoking, 20-something rap fan. And the road turns to smooth, impeccable asphalt - the new Trans-Sahara Highway. Which is being swallowed by sand almost as quickly as it can be built. "The problem, of course, is maintenance - like everywhere in Africa."

Bergeijk punctuates his narrative with riffs on life in Africa - his take on the African attitude toward the future, poverty, the wealth of the West. The mechanic who installs the plate on the bottom of his car owns only a rickety, inadequate jack. Bergeijk has a good one, which he offers to trade for the work. "No deal. Amadou preferred money." Rather than invest in equipment for his business tomorrow, he needed to pay bills today.

"Now that was one thing. I could follow his reasoning. But then he asked: Can't you give me that jack? Here was someone who could take care of himself, who had mastered a trade, had his own business, and who shamelessly asked: Won't you give it to me? Like a little kid." Annoyed, Bergeijk threw the jack back in his trunk and went on his way.

The narrative makes side trips onto the history of travel in the Sahara, from the horrific experience of shipwrecked merchants in the early 19th century (retraced in Dean King's excellent "Skeletons on the Zahara") to the first motorized Saharan crossing in 1922. He also explores the history of his own vehicle, tracing and interviewing its previous owners, even visiting the factory where it was made.

Funny, sharp and reckless (though he probably wouldn't describe himself that way), Bergeijk has no patience for boors or whiners. His descriptions of the sand-blasted African towns along his route are unlikely to increase tourism while his encounters with people - many of them adventurers like himself - are hilarious, eccentric and occasionally terrifying. The map at the front of the book is useful for following along.

Eye-opening and entertaining, Bergeijk's debut will have readers hoping he travels again.

I find that travel writing is one of the best ways to attune to one's inner gonzo. Perhaps it's best explained by the saying truth is stranger than fiction. Indeed, the mere experience of finding yourself in sand-swept Nouakchott, Mauritania, just after leaving a comfy flat in Amsterdam can hammer home said reality is a fine feeling to savor.

Especially from the comfort of a good book, which is what My Mercedes is Not for Sale: From Amsterdam to Ouagadougou...an Auto Mis-adventure across the Sahara delivers. Jeroen van Bergeijk tells the story of his seemingly innocuous quest to deliver his car, a Mercedes-Benz 190 D through Saharan Africa in a grand quest to...wait for it...sell it.

But it is so much more than that. After a brief introduction to the culture of Mercedes-Benz as well as his own car, he immediately takes the reader to the dust, deception, poverty, corruption and overall culture of Western Africa and its obsession with the automotive throwaways of Europe. Peppered with the historical outlook of various historical/literary visitors such as James Riley, Mungo Park, and Antoine de Saint-Exupery, the culture becomes more engrossing. It's a comedic, frightening, even meaningful romp through countries like Morocco, Mauritania, Senegal, Ghana, Mali, Togo and Burkina Faso in search of some adventure as well as a quick sale.

The great thing about this book is that it's not geared toward the hardcore car enthusiast, but rather the culture of someplace deemed exotic or authentic; the car is merely the vehicle, ahem, of such authenticity. Which is, he states, in the spirit of Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (to which he often refers), the act of trying to grasp the essence of a place. As the book progresses, he seems to get a whole lot of it, perhaps more than he bargains for.

Africa's authentic essence is timelessness. "Things in Africa come in two forms," he states, "broken and not broken". With the insistence that life is thus lived according to the phrase "god willing" or "inshallah", time really has no place here. He states that for these people, there is no future; everything, every decision is done for the moment for survival.

This sentiment is evident through all characters encountered along the way, from the ever-predictable corrupt border officials (regardless of country), to roving bands of car thieves and drug traffickers, desert guides, car merchants/repairmen, to everyday citizens looking to employ the fine art of finagling or chep-chep, just to make their daily ends meet.

But aside from the corruption, poverty and lawlessness, van Bergeijk also finds a sense of serenity and exquisite freedom in his journey. Meeting colorful tourists and expats along the way he realizes how Africa is a destination for people running away from something, that it has comfort to offer.

In the end, this is an extremely fast and engaging read about an often overlooked area of the world in which is found an essence that's worth deeper examination. It truly is an authentic work, well worth reading.

While this travelogue may not have the "laugh out loud" humor factor like others in the genre, Van Bergeijk provides a vivid and brutally honest account of his hair-raising and oftentimes tragic voyage through a region even the most seasoned world travelers rarely visit. Complete with historical and geopolitical tidbits, this book is stands out as a fine piece of travel journalism.

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