Ready to drive at least a truck: road chronicles of women drivers who drive cars to the front

Driving girls, regardless of driving experience and their fears, get behind the wheel at long distances. Tame “mechanics” if this car is needed by the military in the Armed Forces. They are even ready to drive trucks, ambulances and trucks – to bring victory closer.

“Ukrainian Truth. Life” talked to three desperately brave volunteers who overtake cars from Poland, Germany, Slovakia, the Czech Republic and do not see anything extraordinary in it. Each of them has a story of several dozen hours at the border in line.

The girls themselves: Lana, Olena and Iryna will tell about adventures, obstacles and human kindness. Then – their direct speech.

We waited for the first car for more than a day in neutral territory between the checkpoints on the Ukraine-Poland border. But the guys who drove this car to us also loaded it with humanitarian aid, which was not missed by the customs officers. They were turned around and forced to process the humanitarian cargo, and my partner and I returned to Ukraine on foot.

So the most memorable car is definitely not the first. It was about the third or fourth, I had to pick her up near Warsaw. In vain, she did not google where Ostrów Mazowiecki is (this is a city in eastern Poland) and believed her husband Eugene that it was 20 kilometers from the capital.

When I got on the bus, Zhenya called me and said that the plan was changing. It was necessary to pick up two cars at once. I jokingly tell him that I’m not Van Dam and two bring will not work. He reassures that he has already found a second driver – our friend Igor. He has 4 children, so he can cross the border. Rzeszow was appointed the meeting point with him.

I reached Mazowiecki Island, 120 km from Warsaw, by regular bus. The driver dropped me off at the bypass, right next to the hotel. I went in and ordered breakfast: the staff heard Ukrainian and treated me very empathetically, even the director himself expressed a desire to help. I asked to contact the driver: in 20 minutes he arrived at the hotel parking lot.

The owner of the car is a slightly older middle-aged man on his Nissan Navara warhorse. That car is a typical transport of a hunter with a mileage of over 200,000.

I remember that we had already signed the contract, he gave me the keys. I open the door, sit down, and then I lower my eyes and see 3 pedals.

I have a Tesla Model X. It’s not just automatic, it’s autopilot. I haven’t ridden a mechanic for 15 years. The only thing left for me is to admit to a Polish salesman that I don’t remember how to ride such a unit. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, frowned, and then took a quick driving lesson. The nuance is that the pedals have to be pressed in order for them to work.

On the way I sometimes confused gears, then she howled at me in the middle of the highway. I, “sneezing” and “roaring”, conquered kilometer after kilometer. On this half-dead mare I had to return to Warsaw to pick up money for a second car.

Igor also decided to “simplify” the situation and fly to the capital. I remember the road to the airport as a continuous ride in a circle – Poles love this type of interchange. Sometimes, in order to “feel” the right one, the congress had to wind 2-3 circles.

It was not easy to ride on that mechanic: I was deaf, confused gears, so I often pressed the “emergency” button. Running forward, when I had already brought the car to Ukraine at the service station, the guys looked in surprise at the fiery button with a triangle. I just shrugged.

After a successful purchase of a second car, we decided to go to the border the next morning. Everything was calm, easy to pass.

But it didn’t get easier to go in Ukraine – because the road was through the mountains: descents and ascents on “mechanics” – such a pleasure. But after that I am not afraid of anything. If the guys ask, I can drive the truck.

I don’t even care that I’m wasting a lot of my time. More importantly, the guys who are there may not wait for the cars, because they fall into traps without them. One day, while we were waiting in line, the guy for whom the car was taken was in the hospital.

The queue is a separate form of social interaction. First, everyone is stiff, and then someone will feed, and someone – will show how to go around this endless string of cars.

On the last trip I was helped by men from a variety of cars. They went with me to persuade the border guards to draw up documents and allow entry, looked for the code on the body for customs, treated and helped as much as possible.

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