The road belongs to me and my V8
There’s something surreal about setting off at 4AM.
The world’s still dark, quiet, and a little unsure—just like your thoughts before a journey that promises no script. Just speed, instinct, and fuel.
Polokwane to Knysna. One Mustang. One woman. One plan: don’t stick to the plan.
Originally, Colesburg was supposed to be my overnight stop. I was meant to arrive by midday, refuel my body, and rest before tackling the rest of the route.
But when I pulled into that quiet little town, something in me whispered, “Keep going.”
And so I did.
I passed through the rugged curves of the Karoo, chasing cloud shadows across the open road like a cinematic cutscene. When I reached Graaff-Reinet, I made a non-negotiable stop to see the iconic Dutch Reformed Church—that towering Gothic beauty in the heart of the old town. It was like stepping into a postcard that had been waiting for me.
Then came Uniondale.
A small beer. A big story.
I sat at a local spot and chatted about The Ghost of Uniondale—a famous legend of a woman hitchhiker who appears to lone drivers on this very route.
Spoiler: she didn’t visit me. But I think my Mustang might’ve scared her off.
At exactly 7PM, 15 hours and 150 litres of fuel later, I pulled into Knysna, the soft glimmer of the lagoon lights greeting me like a quiet applause.
I didn’t even unpack. I found the bed.
The bed found me back.
Lights out. Mustang off. First chapter complete.
Tomorrow, Simola begins. But today? Today was a woman and her car writing a love letter to the road.
