TIMING IS EVERYTHING – Al's version

Shortly after we arrived here, I started to write a short disquisition on the vagaries of transportation in and around Russia. Entitled "Of Planes, Trains, and Automobiles," it recounted our initial experiences getting around in a new and different country: the unbelievable crowds in the metro during rush hour, the thrill of dealing with drunks on buses, the rather cavalier approach to airline safety instructions. Alas, the draft is long gone, the victim of one or more computer failures. In the meantime, of course, we have accumulated a great deal more experience in planes, trains and automobiles, most of which falls in a poorly defined region between amusing, terrifying and incredibly aggravating.

Although we had resolutely determined not to own an automobile here, we purchased our first car within 6 months of our arrival. We learned quickly that although it is perfectly possible, and in many ways preferable, not to have a car in Moscow, we needed one for our many travels to other cities. Without it, we could travel by train, but someone would invariably take time off from work and other responsibilities to ferry us about. Our first car was a "chetvyorka," a romantic term for a Zhiguli station wagon the size of an old Volkswagen squareback. When we bought it, it was 10 years old and on at least its third trip around the odometer. It looked every bit of its age, but ran reasonably well. There were some singular features, like the rear anti-fog lights which came on every time you touched the brake pedal, but nothing too scary. Moreover, it served to disarm the acquisitive instincts of the local traffic police, who were sufficiently bemused by the idea of an American driving one that they generally sent us on our way unmolested.

Within 6 months, the chetvyorka became a mechanical nightmare, demonstrating a complete failure of the brakes, clutch, and electrical system. Although I like to tinker with maintenance chores on cars, serious mechanical work is completely beyond my abilities, so we needed to find a solution. The solution was a 2-year old "Niva," the Zhiguli/Lada analog to a Jeep, complete with 4-wheel drive, 3 shift levers, and tires that came straight from old episodes of "Rat Patrol." When in good mechanical shape, the Niva was unstoppable, clawing its way through any snow, ice or muck that Russia could throw at it. It would carry 4 people in reasonable comfort, so long as the two in the back were reasonably flexible and of moderate size. The trunk space was virtually nil, but we had a nifty Thule luggage rack on the roof, and the suspension actually got much more comfortable when the car was heavily loaded. The gas mileage, particularly in town, was awful, but it seemed a small price to pay, at least until the price of gas started to rise. Alas, like the chetvyorka before it, the Niva started to have mechanical issues. Compared to many Russian cars it was still quite reliable, but it developed an annoying tendency to leave us stranded in undesirable places at unpredictable times. After three years, we bought a second-hand Kia Rio from colleagues, and sent the Niva off to serve our friends in Ryazan, where it gets all the loving attention a 19-year old guy can give it.

The Kia has been with us now for about three years. It is, of course, of Korean design, but was assembled in the Russian city of Kaliningrad. It is virtually ideal for city driving and for long-distance highway cruising; its only weak point is a lack of ground clearance, which makes it less than perfect in the countryside. It now has about 92000 kilometers on the clock compared to 18000 when we bought it. We replaced a brake shoe or two, changed the oil, and put a new electric radiator fan in last summer, but otherwise had no mechanical problems … until last Wednesday, when the timing belt had a "misadventure." The belt itself didn't break, but several of the teeth on the crankshaft, which drive the timing belt, did. The belt, of course, then ceased to turn the camshaft properly, and the camshaft failed to control the opening and closing of the valves. The valves then descended into the cylinders as the pistons were rising, and when they met, there was a truly awesome bending and twisting of various vitally important metal bits, after which the engine was as dead as the proverbial doornail. I wish I had a photograph.

Needless to say, such an adventure never happens at home. We were somewhere on the road between Lipetsk and Voronezh (500+ km from Moscow), en route to a meeting with a Roma group outside of Belgorod. Yikes! Now what? We called Meg, who promptly found Kia dealers in Lipetsk and in Voronezh. Isn't the Internet wonderful? We called the Lipetsk dealer, who proudly announced that there was a waiting list for service of any kind. We had better luck calling the Voronezh dealer, who was prepared to look at the car, but only if we brought it ourselves, since he didn't have a tow truck. And then, a minor miracle: a Lada pulls up in front of us on the edge of the road, and out steps Pasha, whose uncle had preached at a service we visited the previous evening. We grabbed the ever-present tow strap, and Pasha towed us some 90 km into Voronezh. A few minutes of negotiation with a taxi driver, another towing adventure across town (rain, no power assist for steering or brakes, fully-loaded car) and we found ourselves at a thoroughly modern service center, although not the dealership we had called earlier. The service manager, a very helpful sort indeed, got us together with the mechanic, who set to work to figure out the extent of the problem. We got on the phone and called our friend in Belgorod, who set out in a 12-year old Volga sedan to come and get us (about 250 km one way)

Volgas are very ambiguous vehicles. Even now, a black Volga is somehow suggestive of power and influence, which Volga drivers never fail to exploit in traffic. Back in the old days, they were the prerogative of government officials and factory managers, and everybody wanted one. If you were really a somebody, you might even have a driver. To this day, Volgas look pretty classy, at least next to Ladas: they are big, solid, relatively powerful vehicles with plenty of room for passengers and luggage. Even with the after-market propane tank in the trunk, there is a huge amount of space. Their glaring weak point is reliability: if you see an overheated car on the side of road in Moscow, there's a 90% chance it's a Volga. Our friend's Volga sounds like it's on its last legs when it's moving and screams like a banshee when you apply the brakes, but compared to being stuck in Voronezh and missing long-planned meetings, it was literally heaven-sent.

On Thursday afternoon we got the diagnosis from the mechanic: the head in its entirety, the pistons, connecting rods, etc. all needed to be replaced, amounting to a complete rebuild of the engine. The parts, amounting to some 48000 rubles, would have to be ordered, and would take 5 business days to arrive. After that it would take at least 2 days to reassemble the engine, which would have to broken in again as though it were new. The relatively good news is that the labor costs involved, at least by Western standards, are low, only 30000 rubles, and we will have an engine that should be good for a couple of hundred thousand kilometers. Additionally, we were able to look at the damaged parts ourselves, so we can be quite confident that the garage is being straight with us.

As with all adventures, there are lessons to be learned here. The obvious lessons are mechanical -- henceforth, I will be rather more aggressive about timing belt maintenance. The less-obvious lessons are spiritual. There's nothing like the lightning strike of a complete mechanical failure to remind us that we are not in charge. In some ways, it is like Paul's experience on the Damascus road: one second you're in the saddle, the next you're in the dirt, wondering what hit you and why you can't see. And then, even in the midst of our helplessness, God takes care of us, in this case through good friends ready to put out time, effort and money to help us on our way.

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WHAT'S A TIMING BELT? – Ellen's version

The week began with the annoyance and frustration of email failure. It is merely annoying under the best of circumstances, but as summer groups arrive shortly, it was also a concern. The fact that we were getting ready to leave on a five day trip added to the concern, but there was nothing we could do. It failed to come up before I left, so I sent out a few messages by another email address to those due to arrive shortly, gave Meg passwords for my email accounts with instructions to check regularly and left hoping the email problems would be resolved shortly.

The purpose of our trip was to visit churches involved in Roma ministry to explore the possibility of partnership. Piotr Romme came in from Kostroma to travel with us. Leaving Meg in charge of email and animals, we set off with Emma for a journey that would cover nearly 2000 km, carrying us through at least 5 new regions, and visiting 4 congregations. Emma abandoned us after the first 400 km.

Our first stop was the city of Michurinsk in the Tambov region (400 km south of Moscow). Raphael, the pastor, met us on the road and led us to his home, located not on the other side of the tracks, but in between the tracks. A mob of 6 children were out in the road, all his. His wife Anya had a meal ready for us. As we ate, Emma shyly watched their two girls slip in and out of the room with food. By the end of the meal, she was out in the kitchen helping too.

We had an evening gathering at the church, a chance to get to know one another. We shared about twinning, and they shared about their ministry. Raphael seemed almost embarrassed by their ministry, because the congregation has only meager financial resources and they cannot engage in extravagant projects, but they are remarkable people. Most Russians don't have any use for Roma. This congregation not only welcomes Roma, but feels a deep call to reach out to them. Kolya, a Roma evangelist, has recently joined the church. When Raphael and Kolya speak about outreach to Roma in the villages surrounding Michurinsk, there faces light up. This is tough ministry, but the most essential ingredient is already present – love, love for the Roma.

Al and I stayed with another church member, while Emma stayed with Raphael's family. By the time we returned for her in the morning, she had an invitation to stay and was more than ready to accept it. My first response was "no," but almost immediately I felt the need to reconsider. We had a long road ahead of us, and here were new friends for Em, and a chance to practice Russian. We exchanged phone numbers, bid farewells, and headed out for the next leg of our journey, a 500 km drive westward to Shebekino in the Belgorod region. By mid-afternoon, we were very thankful that we had left Emma behind.

From Michurinsk, we headed through Lipetsk toward Voronezh. Somewhere between these two major cities, on a remote stretch of highway, the engine of our car suddenly self-destructed. A fault with the timing belt, so I understand. We found ourselves stranded in the middle of nowhere with a foreign car. As we were reminded repeatedly in the coming days, our problems would have been less severe had we had a Russian car. After the initial shock of it, we pulled our wits together and called Meg in Moscow to search out a KIA repair service in either Lipetsk or Voronezh. She found one in each city. Further calls suggested that we were better off going forward to Voronezh rather than backwards to Lipetsk, but how to do that was far from clear. None of the repair places seemed to have a tow truck. As we sat in the hot car with horseflies buzzing around us, wondering what to do next, a purple Lada suddenly pulled off the road in front of us. We looked on in amazement as Roma friends from Michurinsk got out of the car. Al, Piotr and Pasha discussed the situation. The last thing Al wanted to do was to ask Pasha to tow our car with his little Lada. Without engine power, we would lose power brakes, and at highway speeds it could be very dangerous for everyone, not to mention hard on the transmission of Pasha's lighter car. Pasha did not wait to be asked, and our two cars were soon connected by a tow strap for the 70 km drive to Voronezh. The Good Samaritan had come to our aid and we felt in the palm of God's hand.

What a ride. The tow strap broke twice. We knotted it, but with each knot the strap became shorter. I sat in the back to let the men handle things, but I could tell that Piotr was far more of a backseat drive than anyone I know. He was constantly telling Al when to brake and when to ease up, and I knew it was driving Al crazy, but he was very patient. Finally, we reached a repair center, though not the one Meg had found on the internet. This turned out to be another blessing, as they took the car in immediately and began to take apart our poor engine. It was already late in the afternoon when we arrived, so they could not finish the exploration, but it was clear almost immediately that this was going to be at least a two day job. Piotr had already called Piotr T., the pastor in Shebekino to tell him that we would not make it to him, thinking we could get it fixed in time for our third stop. With this unforeseen news, we called Piotr T. back, and like Pasha, he did not even hesitate. He told us to hang tight and he would come get us, a nearly 300 km drive.

Four hours later, at 11 pm, Piotr T. arrived in his ancient Volga, and he greeted us with warmth and joy. Quickly he loaded us and our things and set off for the return journey. Again, what a ride. The Volga resisted ignition, growling and sputtering. Once on the road, it lurched back and forth, screaming loudly and pulling like a cart horse whenever Piotr put on the breaks, but Al and I felt an amazing peace. Another brother in Christ had come to our rescue. We arrived in Shebekino at 3 am, Piotr's wife, Nadya waiting for us, ready to tuck us in. Their joy in having us was evident. The next morning, we worshipped with their congregation and then went down to the river to relax a little. While there, the garage in Voronezh called to give us the complete picture – our engine was totally destroyed and would need to be completely rebuilt. The five of us sat down by the river sorting through all the options. Finally, we decided to go ahead and repair the car, but that meant we would have to return to Voronezh before going on to Kursk (our third stop). Again, Piotr didn't hesitate. He agreed to carry us back and on to Kursk, and then he stopped the car and prayed for us. It is a moment we will not soon forget.

We spent the evening with a Roma clan out in the countryside. The Shebekino congregation has also welcomed Roma Christians into their midst and also feels a strong call to evangelize to other Roma families. We spent hours chatting outside the gates to their homes, and then moved into the courtyard for tea and a light supper. The meal was served on a low table with people sitting on rugs on the ground. Flies buzzed around until dark, and then the mosquitoes came out, but I would not have missed the fellowship around this table.

Early the next morning, we set out again in the old Volga for the 300 km back to Voronezh to pay a deposit on repairs, and then another 200 km trip to Kursk. With each church I shared that we do what we do because we are one family in Christ. Piotr T. expressed this far more profoundly through his care and sacrifice. He left Kursk for the return drive to Voronezh (another 200 km) at 9 pm that night.

The next day, we headed out to Kurchatov to visit another congregation - another warm reception by our family in Christ. Everyone had made plans around our having our own car, but they quickly and seamlessly made new plans. The congregation in Kurchatov is Russian, but their pastor is Roma – Igor. It is a small congregation, but rich in fellowship. At one point in time, it was a congregation of pensioners, but they have rejoiced in a growing youth ministry, encouraging the youth in special ways. At the end of the worship, the church gathered to bless a couple, Victor and Sveta, who were moving on to a new and distant church. After praying for them in a circle, Igor laid his hand on Victor's shoulder and told him – "If at any point you are in trouble, call me, and I will come." This is the family of Christ.

We spent the afternoon with another Roma pastor, Andrei, out at his family's farm. It was a wonderful afternoon with more warm hospitality. Many Roma live on farms, but they don't really work them. Most don't know how. Andrei is the very opposite. He has fields of potatoes and other vegetables, an orchard and a wide array of livestock – geese, ducks, chickens, sheep, and, of course, horses. Al and I both went for a ride in the horse cart. This is not for the faint of heart, but it was a gift from our Roma friends. At the end of the evening, Andrei drove us back into Kursk for a train back to Moscow.

I don't remember what I expected from this trip. What we experienced in fellowship made our car troubles seem trivial. Again and again I looked around me wondering if you would understand, but wanting you to come and visit and know these brothers and sisters in Christ. They are your brothers and sisters too. These are people that fully understood the problems we faced. They have faced them before and will face them again. They embraced us, encouraged us and supported us, humbling us to our very core.

We will search for partners for these churches. At least two of them could use a team for renovation work. All of them would welcome the opportunity to put on a children's day camp. More importantly though, they would cherish the opportunity to welcome you into their midst and worship our Lord together with you.

Al fetched Emma from Michurinsk yesterday. The first group arrives this Saturday. We hope that the car will be ready some time next week, at which point, one of us will return to Voronezh to get it.