Project Krassler, my $600 diesel manual Chrysler Voyager that I bought last year sight-unseen and arduously limped through Germany’s rigorous inspection, is going to be put to the test this week. I’m heading from my parents’ place near Nürnberg, Germany to a wedding in Istanbul, Turkey. That’s 2,500 round trip.
A little backstory, since I haven’t written about this incredible diesel manual van in quite some time: After buying a broken diesel manual Chrysler minivan, my friends graciously stored the machine for a while until I could show up. My friends and I spent two months fixing the van to prep it for Germany’s unbelievably hard vehicle inspection.
The van passed by the skin of its teeth after multiple attempts, and then took me on an epic road-trip to and from Ghent, Belgium via Frankfurt (Germany), Cologne (Germany), and Aachen (Germany). After that, I drove the van over 4,000 miles to Sweden, where I visited Königsegg and an amazing couple way up north who introduced me to EPA tractors. I’ll need to write about that someday, because it was wild. Here’s a little snapshot:
That Sweden story, and the many stories about what it’s like trying to driving around Europe (and living in a minivan) during a pandemic, will have to wait for another time, because look at this trek I have ahead of me:
The trip to Sweden was similarly long, but it was in snowy November. This drive will subject my $600 machine to some seriously high ambient temperatures. Hopefully this new element doesn’t cause any problems for my dirt-cheap, but so-far-incredibly-reliable-and-efficient van.
Follow the trip on Instagram for the most up-to-date happenings on Project Krassler (As a reminder, that’s a play on the German slang term “Krass”— a word that means “cool” and that I have a mild obsession with).
DISCUSSION
D.T.
I love you.
I love this van.
I love the stories about this van.
BUT!
While the van may have cost $600 at some point, how much, would you say, have you invested in the van now, including parts and paying you the least salary for your wrenching hours?
What’s a cheap minivan expert paid these days?
And how many experts have you consulted to get this thing back on the road?
I seem to remember a great story about meeting a random dude in Germany who turned out to be an expert on these vehicles?
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My point is:
There’s something, I dunno, deeply disingenuous with continuing to call this a six hundred dollar vehicle.
It’s like referring to a college graduate by the amount they cost at birth.
I know, a silly analogy.
Why does this bother me?
The ‘entry cost’ to this hobby is kept mythically low in articles like this,
and that’s not right because it hurts people who might want to start wrenching, or try their hand at having adventures like yours.
Which is the opposite, yes, of what you desire for your work?