A TRIP TO REMEMBER -
by Paul Champney (as told to Richard Jones) (published in the Isetta Gazette Sept/Oct 1997)
Chris Hopkins and I began our trip in a 1964 RHD 3 wheeler Isetta from Otley, West Yorkshire, whence we drove to Hull. Driving onto the ferry, we realised that this was the first time on a ferry, and we reflected on the fact that we had never been abroad with any car before this trip, let alone an Isetta. Confident though in the abilities of our Isetta, we settled down for a night aboard ship.
Arriving in Rotterdam, we breakfasted before disembarking at about 8am. Those of you who have done the Hull/Rotterdam journey will know that to get to Störy you first head on the autobahn for Utrecht and Arnhem, and this is what we began to do.
We had been on the road for half an hour or so before we stopped for our first (and only) time in this car, where we filled the petrol tank to the 'gunwales'. This was the first time that pur feet had touched foreign soil.
After a short leg stretch we carried on. The autobahn was quiet, and empty, but it was still early in the morning. We had been driving for around half an hour, and, I distinctly remember, in the rear view mirror a long way distant I saw a coach.
I suppose it was only a couple of minutes later that there was a screeching sound. I first thought it was a fighter plane screaming low over us, although, in hindsight, it was actually the bus slamming all on. I just had time to glimpse the horrifying sight of the front of the bus right behind us, to call out to Chris to, "Hang on!", and to grip the steering wheel tightly before the bus hit us from behind.
There was a huge BANG!, the Isetta lurched, pivoted on its nearside wheel in a horrible movement, and then rolled end over end four or five times. I was hanging onto the steering wheel with both hands, and so didn't really move, but Chris only had the grab bar to hang on to, and as a consequence was badly thrown about inside the car.
The coach, carrying American servicemen back to their camp, had been doing 85 m.p.h. just before it braked, and was still probably doing 60-
I lifted my head from the steering wheel thinking, "Christ, we've finished on our wheels."
Chris was upside down with his head on the floor. The door rather pathetically slowly swung open.
We were both conscious of the hazards of our full fuel tank, and in fact we were being sprayed from somewhere by a cold, wet liquid. The car stank of petrol, so we both leapt out.
Actually, the spray came from a punctured can of coke which had wedged itself in the sunroof, and there wasn't any petrol in the tank at all, although the car stank of the stuff.
All of our property was strewn across the autobahn, and the car was a bit of a heap at the side of the road on the hard shoulder. We were surrounded by US G.I's all saying things like, "Gee, you should have seen the little car, it went over and over!" The driver of the coach claimed that we had braked suddenly in front of him, but the skid marks didn't bear this out. I can only assume that the colour of the car (grass green) and the fact that we were little and slow meant that he didn't see us until it was too late.
I still maintain to this day that if we had been in an ordinary car we would have probably been seriously injured, or worse, and it was only because the car dissipated the impact energy by 'footballing' along the road that saved us.
There we were, the two of us, stranded in a foreign country, with no transport. We had been travelling alone. We were taken to Arnhem Police Station where the car was impounded in a police compound. I still remember two of the policemen absolutely creasing themselves with laughter at the sight of our little car.
We got in touch with Otto at Störy (he had already heard rumours of 'an Isetta going down' somewhere in Holland.) and he then contacted Henri and Mary Rutgers. The Rutgers arrived with a trailer at the Police Station, where they picked up the car and took us to their home. I had to pay to get the car released from the pound! Completely wrecked, it was to remain at Henri's until the end of our stay.
We spent two days with Henri, and then travelled with the Dutch contingent to Störy, something of a 400 mile trip. I travelled with Irene Rutger in her Autobianchi whilst Chris was transported in somebody's Heinkel. The weather was revolting, Irene got lost, and it was a long miserable journey that finally ended at Otto's in Störy. However, everybody looked after us the entire time that we were there.
After the rally, Henri and Mary took us back to Holland, and then transported the car back to Rotterdam Europort. We pushed the car onto the ferry.
We had managed to get in touch with Frank and Pat Jevons by this time, and they managed, along with Ivan Robinson, to meet us at Hull and to take us back to Otley.
Considering the catalogue of damage that the car had suffered, it was amazing that we walked away with barely an injury. Chris had suffered the most during his bouncing about in the car, having burst a blood vessel in his arm.
The rear of the car was crushed in and both front and rear screens had shattered. The fuel tank was completely crushed! One headlamp pod was flattened with the bulb hanging out. The bulb still worked! The other pod was undamaged, except, you guessed it, the bulb had blown. 
The door frame was cracked open at the weld. The sunroof was ripped and torn. There was a deep gouge mark on the roof.
The rear chassis was bent, and the shock absorber hung over at a strange angle. Funnily, the front bumper was unmarked, and I actually fitted it to my present car without even having to touch the paint up.
Over the winter months, Chris and I restored a 1959 4 wheeler, and the following year we successfully completed the trip to Störy, this time under our own power.
Even after all these years, both Chris and I would like to extend our grateful thanks to all our friends, British, Dutch and German, who rallied together to salvage something out of a trip that we will never forget.
