03 Nov 06
When we enter the launch party at the L'Automobile Club de France at Place de la Concorde in Paris I finally realise just what a big deal this whole adventure is. As ultra-hip members of a Chinese TV crew strut into the room, dressed to perfection, I wonder if they'll still look so immaculate after the eight days on the road. The Italians are gathered in a corner, dressed in dark moody suits, clouds of smoke lingering above them. There's a Japanese contingent, a Taiwanese man, some Thais, Poles, Spaniards, Portuguese, a Lithuanian loner and many Americans. New faces, new languages, brought together for a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
The next morning we're all assembled again, but this time we're in the crisp brightness of Place Jacques Rueff, looking for the E-Classes that we're going to drive from Paris to St Petersburg on the first of five legs making up Mercedes' 8450-mile trek to Beijing. It's not hard to find our E320, as it's painted with the British flag. DaimlerChrysler boss Dieter Zetsche hands us our key, cameras click from all directions, and a film crew hovers above us in a helicopter as we leave Paris in a convoy of 36 cars along the tree-lined Champs Elysees.
This should be the most straightforward part of the whole trip, on good roads that are familiar to many of us, yet various drivers seem determined to inject some drama. In a display of pure machismo, the Italians overtake one another from all directions, the Americans get over excited as they explore just how fast you can go on certain European roads, and the Chinese have been spotted reversing on a motorway. As we approach Stuttgart, home of Mercedes-Benz, we hear that the Chinese have run out of fuel. How did they manage that? Our identical car still has half a tank of diesel.
In daylight, the following morning, we can see what a glorious structure the new Mercedes museum is; all curved concrete and extreme glass. We huddle around as photographers click and a helicopter films us from above, and stays with us long after we've left behind the pristine streets of the Swabian capital. The sun is bright and the light is that late autumn shade, casting low shadows on the flawless A81 autobahn.
