The story of my Laika
From the LAIKA history
The story of Laika begins in 1964, the year the company came into being. It was the age of space exploration and of discovering the unknown. The founder, Giovambattista Moscardini, was fascinated by those adventures, which opened up new horizons of knowledge. That is also why the company is named after the first dog sent into space. The logo chosen accordingly was the red winged greyhound. 1964 was also the year of the first caravan model, the little “500”. It was so small that it could be towed by a Fiat 500.
Laika 500
I had been looking for a caravan for the Fiat 500 for a long time. I dug my way through all the relevant literature and studied one or two of them at meetings. It shouldn’t be too small, I still want to be able to move about. But the folding tent trailers couldn’t really convince me. Most caravans, on the other hand, are too tall and act like a drag chute the moment you drive. And then, while browsing classic caravan forums, I come across a caravan you can crank down! That could be the one. The technical data:
Length 2,31m, width 1,72m and then, height closed 1,55m and open 2,25m, empty weight 180kg and 3 berths …
But first things first…
Somewhere in the vastness of the internet I came across this brochure:
Does such a thing still exist? Where do you find one? My “there-must-be-one-out-there-somewhere” urge gives me no peace. Thank you internet, or rather Google!! In 2006 I found photos at a Fiat 500 fan in France. He found and bought his on eBay. So it really does exist!
A year later I found one too! But because of the fantasy price of 5000 Euro nothing came of it.
Then for a long, long time I found nothing at all. I wrote to every LAIKA dealer in Switzerland, Italy, Germany and France. All that came out of it was one photo and various people telling me: never seen one.
This one is said to be on display in the Laika museum:
A few years went by. As it goes, once you stop looking, you suddenly stumble over it.
During a long night at the end of October 2011 I work my way through the various classified platforms, looking out for special Fiat 500s. Once again I try the search term Laika 500 and, to my astonishment, I actually find an ad. The very first one ever for such a caravan.
The first euphoria gives way to a “sh….” when I read where the thing is: Palermo, not exactly next door. But it gives me no peace. I phone the owner: the caravan is complete, not the prettiest any more, there is still some work to do but it is very rare, of course the papers are there. When I ask whether you can hitch it up and tow it home, he answers with a “ma certo”; as an Italian I could quite happily have been a bit more suspicious. Then things moved fast: I wrote him an e-mail with my address, he wrote me one with his bank details, and whoosh, the euros were transferred and I got an uneasy feeling: is somebody taking me for a ride here? After all, I had only seen the caravan in pictures.
A few days later I called and asked whether my payment had arrived. When I mentioned that I would come and collect the caravan the following week, he answered with an OK. In my nightmares I had already pictured him having 10, no, 100 excuses why it wouldn’t work out just then.
And where is the “thing” actually standing?
So I tried to find a haulage company that would bring the caravan to Switzerland for a reasonable price. Unfortunately I always failed because my “reasonable” could not be reconciled with the company’s “reasonable”.
I had already been to Sardinia with the Fiat 500 once. Back then we let the ferry carry us across the sea. Why shouldn’t that work with Sicily too. Ferry looked up on the internet, booking started, and there the next shock. The price!! I couldn’t believe my eyes, my ticket including car, seat and all charges costs 81€. Why is it so cheap? A rust hole in the tub? Well, anyway, 2 days before departure I phone the seller once more: I’m coming tomorrow, everything all right? Papers transferred? Everything is fine, he says. The papers are with the authorities and are being prepared. OK, then I’ll book now.
That amount really was debited from the card – how can they offer such a crossing for so little money?
I study the timetable and put together the following plan:
23:00 departure from the port of Genoa for Palermo, journey time according to the website 20 hours, return again at 23:00 from Palermo. That gives me 4 hours to pick up the caravan, drink a coffee, check in back at the port and sail back to Genoa at 23:00. That is plenty, according to the seller the caravan is 10km from the port.
Well, but things always turn out differently, and not the way you think …
On 9.11.2011 the journey begins.
I set off from Thun at 12:30 to catch the car-carrying train at Kandersteg. I arrive in Kandersteg and the train pulls out right in front of my nose. That should have been a sign, but well, the next one leaves in 30 minutes … no problem. Beautiful weather in the Valais, on towards Brig. Aha, the Brig – Iselle train doesn’t leave for another 90 minutes, that is no problem either – I drive over the Simplon Pass. Apart from the 20 minutes of waiting in front of some roadworks that was no problem either. Glorious weather and snow were a delight to my eye.
At about 15:00 I crossed the border. The customs officer grins at me and waves me through. On the A26 towards Alessandria I take a coffee break at the Borgomanero service area, this time there are no Fiat 500 model cars. On along the motorway towards Alessandria. At 19:30, far too early, I reach the port of Genoa. So I have plenty of time to go and eat something. No sooner said than done, and then off to check in. My tickets printed off the internet were accepted without any trouble and soon I was allowed to disappear with the car into the bow of the ship.
On the ferry I eat a bite and enjoy the full-moon night on deck. Then I go to the sleeping lounge and can spread out over 3 upholstered chairs. Sleeping, though, is another matter. In front of me are feet that stink as if they hadn’t been washed for at least 3 weeks. Behind me somebody is snoring. Luckily I hear nothing on one ear, so I could lie on the other one and still get some sleep.
After 20 hours of sailing and a full hour’s delay we arrived in Palermo. The spectacle from the deck was wonderful, thousands of city lights lit up the harbour. The captain berthed the huge thing to the centimetre, I could only marvel. The lady at reception confirmed to me that departure would certainly take place 30 – 60 minutes later than planned. That reassured me, because I had reckoned with little margin. Now I realised: First In – Last out. It would have been better not to board so early in Genoa. Another 30 minutes had gone by. I phoned the seller and he gave me the exact address for the GPS.
A rather fast drive through Palermo quickly took me to a suburb of Palermo. I couldn’t really enjoy the wonderful view over the city and the sea. Through a rickety gate and along a bumpy road surrounded by spiky cacti I reached a shed where I was greeted by 2 barking dogs. Nino, the seller, took the dogs away and I could get out. There it was, my “new” caravan.
I discovered that the tow hitch was held by just one bolt; held was the wrong word. The thing had 2 cm of play in every direction. I asked for a bolt and he opened the door to the shed. Now it was clear to me why the dogs were on guard. A 2300 Alfa Romeo from the 1940s stood there. Further back various Lancias from the 1940s to the 1960s, a Ford Mustang and a few prancing horses were in the stable as well. I got the bolt I wanted and fixed the tow hitch. Since I didn’t believe in perfectly stored caravan tyres, I had taken 2 rims with new tyres along as a precaution. The radial tyres fitted were probably the original ones. When I picked up the plug for the lighting, I didn’t trust it to work. Plug it in and lo and behold, not a single bulb worked. Changing the plug brought no improvement and so I decided to rig up something provisional with an extension lead. I could only connect the rear lights, without indicators and brake lights. AND TIME IS RUNNING OUT. In 30 minutes the ferry was due to leave on schedule. I hitched up the caravan and flew off towards the port. Oops.. quickly write a number plate with a ballpoint pen and off we go….
Both entrances were closed and so I decided to drive onto the port area through the exit. It was 22:55. The first vehicle was of course one of the Guardia di Finanza. I stopped and asked where the ship and the check in were. Very calmly he answered me: the ship left 10 minutes ago. Right, and now what? There were 2 options:
1. Wait. — There is another ship tomorrow.
2. Drive to the next port, take the ferry to Livorno and then another 200km by road to Genoa.
That seemed to me to be the quicker option. I had it explained to me how to get there and I was quite amazed when the policeman explained:
up ahead at the no-left-turn sign you turn left very carefully and then you have to … and then …. But you have to drive fast, the ferry leaves at 24:00. As he said it he made a quick back-and-forth movement with his hand to underline that “fast”.
I raced very “calmly” the 42km to the next port only to find that I had missed that ferry as well. To my “what now” the friendly woman replied: yes, in 2 hours there is another ferry to Salerno. I was glad to get off the island after all and bought the ticket without asking any more questions.
While I was waiting in the car I asked myself: where actually is this Salerno? Puuuhhh! Google Maps told me: 900km to GENOA!
With 2 cars and about 25 lorries we cast off at 2:00. Tired, I went to my upholstered chair and slept the few hours until morning. The smell of fresh coffee woke me at 7:00 and the “brioche” that went with it was still warm. Slowly the harbour came closer and closer. The mobile phone reception was working again too. Salerno, an ancient port town below a high cliff.
At about 10:00 we docked in Salerno, a beautiful panorama and warm weather. At 25km/h we crawled up the hill towards the motorway and I thought I’ll never get there !
I told myself the journey is the destination and already the towns were rushing past me, Napoli, Roma, signs to Firenze, Pisa, Genova, Alessandria. Oh yes, I had forgotten: the papers were of course not ready and so I had decided to take the caravan “only” as far as our summer house in Piedmont and to fetch it later.
Once in Vaglio I took the caravan off the hook, parked it as close as possible to the house wall and off the journey went again. There was nobody left at the customs post in Gondo and I could drive straight through, Simplon, Brig, Visp, what time is it? 23:55, well, well, the last train left Goppenstein at 23:20. Missing means of transport really does seem to stick to me! After so many kilometres it no longer matters, on we go down the Rhone valley via Sierre, Montreux, Bern and Thun and home. After 1857 trouble-free kilometres I fall into bed exhausted.
…. AND IT WAS FUN!!
In December the papers arrived by registered post: a new vehicle registration document made out in my name! Oh yes, that works in Palermo!! But the weather didn’t allow me to bring the Laika from Italy to Switzerland.
There was far too much snow for a long time to go and fetch the caravan and finally, in February, I was able to tackle the trip. Down with the trailer and back up the same day. It was meant to be short and painless, but there you go …
Left Thun towards Kandersteg, by train through the Lötschberg, all fine. Then via Visp to Brig to take the car-carrying train to Iselle there. No delays, short waiting times. In the tunnel through the Simplon we pass another train and the pressure wave tears a hole in the trailer’s tarpaulin. An enormous racket, and the tarpaulin hangs from the rearmost post of the trailer and keeps slamming into the back of the car with full force. I climb out of the car at what feels like 150km and climb onto the trailer, with a great deal of effort I manage to wrap the tarpaulin around the post so that it stops attacking the rear of the car.
Having finally arrived on the other side we leave the car train and study the damage to the car. Luckily we could only find scratches and no dents. During the journey my passenger was terribly afraid that all that banging would shatter the windscreen into a thousand pieces. Fortunately nothing worse happened. She got away with a fright and I with a trailer without a tarpaulin and 1000 Euro less in my pocket. Filling in the damage form for the insurance was fun too. Thankfully the damage was covered.
Two hours late I did arrive in Vaglio after all. First I had to free the caravan from its load of snow. Thanks to the fine weather in Switzerland my clothing was not exactly snow-proof! I put the trailer down and hitched the caravan to the hook. That way I could push it backwards up onto the trailer and then lash it down. It looks funny, only on the trailer do you notice the “size”, or should that be the “smallness”?
Oddly enough the return trip went without a hitch and I was back the same evening.
This way to the restoration of my Laika. (click the picture)