The distance to Pskov wasn't much compared to everything we've driven before. Only a few hundred km on good Russian highways shouldn't be a problem. So we thought. While Bianca and I did some good old shopping at the local super market, Chris and the rest tried to start the bus, unsuccessfully. It ran for 200m but didn't start again. We were standing at one of the biggest streets in St. Petersburg with a car that no longer had the will to function properly. I started to imagine all the shows that had to be canceled, all the disappointment, the shameful return to Germany after only a few shows. Transit, why did you abandon us?
We checked our options. To give the car a good push seem plausible but was almost impossible, since the road was almost blocked all the time. But Question really liked that idea, so we thought: There are dreamers and doers. And there are people who push a Ford Transit through the center of St. Petersburg. Questions also took the opportunity to shoot millions of photos and although the whole pushing-around thing didn't work at all, we had at least one story we will tell our grandchildren someday. The next option was to call Germany. In a band, where 3 out of 4 are gold members of the German Automobile Club (ADAC) this should work. Munich has been contacted and we were assured that assistance was on its way, Of course nothing happened.. A second call got us the number of the Russian Automobile Clubs. A brief call and we knew what was going on. We just had to wait a little longer. After 2 hours a short Russian guy greeted us with a knock on the window and a friendly "Hallo Deutschland". Three more minutes passed and the transit purred like a kitten. The battery was dead. During the whole time we were in contact with Pskov, if we would move out now we still would be able to play the show. We tried to give our new Russian friend some Rubels, which he really deserved but he refused persistently and ended the discussion with a "No money, just friendship!". Damn, this was really moving.
We were ready, we were invincible, we were back on the road, playing all the shows and nothing, nothing could stop us now! Nothing except Questions were missing and we couldn't leave without them. Even after an hour, still no sign of them. We formed search parties to find the disappeared, who only left to film stuff ("because of the good light"). After 90 minutes they returned at last. By now Christian had mutated into Hulk and Questions got the beating of their lives. The Boss yelled at them, threw them in the bus, closed the door with a bang that must have shaken every single butter barrel in St. Petersburg, and got us back on the road.
The odds and Russian streets were against us a but we wanted to play this show! With the help of a caffeine pill Christian sucked everything out of the Transit, no passing was too risky, no truck too wide, no Russian Lada driver too drunk. And so we did the impossible, we made it in time. And it was worth it! Again, the Russian hardcore kids showered us with gratitude and friendship. What followed was 35 minutes of pure destruction. Nothing else. You know you've done something right when you drive thousands of kilometers to a strange city and a guy whom you've never seen before, who doesn't speak your language and your not his, does want to hear a song you wrote. So we ended the set with "Home is where the hate is," the unofficial motto of every tour!