My Mercedes is Not for Sale: From Amsterdam to Ouagadougou...An Auto-Misadventure Across the Sahara | 
 enlarge | Author: Jeroen Van Bergeijk
Publisher: Broadway
Category: Book
List Price: $12.95
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Rating:  9 reviews
Sales Rank: 41286
Media: Paperback
Number Of Items: 1
Pages: 224
Shipping Weight (lbs): 0.3
Dimensions (in): 7.9 x 5.2 x 0.6
ISBN: 0767928695
Dewey Decimal Number: 916.60433
EAN: 9780767928694
ASIN: 0767928695
Publication Date: July 15, 2008
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Product Description
“Oh Lord, won’t you buy me a Mercedes Benz?”
—Janis Joplin
A journalist’s intrepid endeavor to sell his used car abroad results in a high-spirited and revealing look at West Africa.
“Look, there’s my car,” I say, pointing at my Mercedes in the parking lot.
“Where?” a fellow desert traveler asks.
“There, that Mercedes,” I say.
He looks at me, questioning. “You want to drive that through the Sahara?”
Jeroen van Bergeijk came up with what seemed like a great scheme for making a quick profit: buy a clunker of a car in his native Amsterdam and resell it in the Third World, where a market even for jalopies still thrives. His chariot of choice is a rusted-out 1988 Mercedes 190D with 220,000 kilometers on its odometer; his route will take him from Holland through Morocco, across the Sahara, and into some of the least trodden parts of Africa.
My Mercedes Is Not for Sale is a rollicking tale of an innocent abroad. The author finds himself facing a driving challenge akin to the Dakar Rally but encounters obstacles never dreamed of by race-car drivers: active minefields, occasional banditry—mostly by the border guards—and a teenage, chain-smoking desert guide with a fondness for Tupac lyrics. Food and water are scarce, sandstorms are frequent, and all he has to patch up his many car breakdowns thousands of miles from civilization is a bar of soap, some duct tape, and a pair of women’s nylons. Then there’s the coup he survived.
My Mercedes Is Not for Sale captures more than the adventure—it vividly portrays the impact of globalization on Africa through a surprise-filled journey into its thriving car culture, while asking the question: is the white man’s burden really a used car?
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| Customer Reviews: Read 4 more reviews...
 Great Adventure Which Teaches the Reader a Bit of African Culture and History Along the Way! October 28, 2008
4 out of 4 found this review helpful
Jeroen Van Bergeijk's adventure across Western Africa in an old 1988 Mercedes 190 D is both thoroughly entertaining, as well as educational, and as an added bonus, throws in a bit of ethical debate along the way. The author is a brilliant commentator, who writes very well. This adventure was in fact two road trips with two 190's as you find out if you read the acknowledgement pages after the tale, but the story is written so well that you just can't tell it's not one adventure. Basic goal of Bergeijk's adventure was to buy an old car in Holland and drive it through the Sahara Desert and the African countries along the way, and sell it for a nice profit to an African who would greatly benefit from owning a Mercedes in the coastal city of Ouagadougou. Don't know where that is, doesn't matter, Bergeijk provides a map! He also provides a few photographs in the middle of the book as well. Along Bergeijk's journey he experiences the best and worst that Western African countries have to offer. From having to outrun car loads of robbers in Morocco, dealing with corrupt border guards demanding their 'gifts' at each country's border, corrupt police, eccentric travellers, putting a loud rude American in his place for complaining about having to pay $10 because he forgot to get a visa by pointing out no one from that African country could turn up at American immigration without a visa, produce $10 and be waved in, and of course there's a nice twist to that story, to breaking down in the middle of the Sahara, Bergeijk had one big road trip!
Along the way the reader will also learn a fair bit out the Mercedes company, African history and the tales of the misfortunes of those who, shipwrecked, explored it or were sent by European government's to plan Railways between their colonies.
My Mercedes is Not For Sale is a very interesting read. Bergeijk's a journalist and not a comedian so it doesn't have the humour of writers like Dave Gorman or Danny Wallace, but it does share the same trait of travelling for a unique and bizarre reason that their book's do.
Check this book out!
Wonderful photos, interesting voyage, bit of a disconnect October 7, 2008
3 out of 4 found this review helpful
Dutch journalist Jeroen van Bergeijk drove through Europe and Morocco, and into Burkina Faso. He had bought a 1988 Mercedes 190D in the Netherlands for the equivalent of $1,200, hoping to sell it for a profit. He describes his objective:
"There are ads like this on the Dutch Internet auction site marktplaats.nl all the time: 'For sale: 1988 Mercedes 190 D Price: $1,400 136,400 miles. Alarm. Black 4-door. Excellent condition. Recent checkup, oil change, safety and emissions inspection.' This one gets my attention because everything about it seems right: the kind of Mercedes I'm looking for, a reasonable asking price, not too many miles, and a recent inspection. 'My phone hasn't stopped ringing,' the owner says when I call his cell phone number on a Saturday morning. 'You can have a look, but the first good offer gets it.' I drive immediately to one of the new suburbs just outside The Hague. The owner's name is Ronald. He works for the police. And so, the implication is, can be trusted. Ronald is a well-built man with close-cropped hair, about what you'd expect for a police officer.T aciturn, a bit stern, but not unfriendly. We stroll to his Mercedes, which seems rather out of place among the brand-new gleaming mid-class cars parked on Ronald's tidy little street. The finish is dull. There's a crack in the bumper. The sunroof doesn't open anymore. The driver's seat sags, and the doors don't lock."
"I couldn't get that cab in Ouagadougou out of my mind. On the plane home to Amsterdam, I'd obsessed about how that car had wound up there. I imagined a Dutch aid worker who'd gotten the Mercedes from his uncle and imported it through the port in neighboring Benin. Maybe an African immigrant to the Netherlands had bought the car and sent it to his family in Burkina Faso. Or some adventurous Dutchman had driven that Mercedes 190 straight through the Sahara to Ouagadougou to sell it there to the highest bidder. But what really happened? How did a Dutch car end up in Africa?"
van Bergeijk has written an interesting account of his journey, alluding often to Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert M. Pirsig. He's practical -- he took an off-road driving course before leaving home -- but not that practical; he knows nothing about repairing the car.
Jeffrey A. Trachtenberg takes him to task on that discrepancy in an interview in "The Wall Street Journal."
"WSJ: Throughout this book you refer to Robert M. Pirsig's "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance." Yet you didn't do your own repairs, and appeared completely reliant on others. What happened?
"Mr. Van Bergeijk: I'm not a very good mechanic. He describes the tension between the hippy, groovy thing, and the square, do-your-own-repair sensibility. He sees that division everywhere in America. It's the same division between Eastern and Western philosophies. I have similar tensions. I'd like to repair my car myself, but I can't be bothered."
That answer didn't satisfy me, frankly; Van Bergeijk's book lacked the tension I was entranced with in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Van Bergeijk has written a journal of a sometimes pleasant, sometimes unpleasant learning experience. In particular he was struck by the grimness of the countries he visited, but was surprised to find "upbeat people" everywhere he went.
The photographs are extraordinary -- gigantic loads of materials and people on trucks for example. A very good sampling appears on Van Bergeijk's excellent website which is devoted in large measure to his journey. His writing is clear and generally insightful. I had stopped by a Manhattan bookstore for his book signing, but in the event spent a very pleasant two hours with his book instead at a nearby Starbucks. Somehow reading about the journey seemed more satisfying than waiting in line and then briefly talking with the author. And so it proved to be.
Robert C. Ross 2008
wry, well written with more than a touch of Zen October 1, 2008
11 out of 13 found this review helpful
Taking guidance from Robert Pirsig's "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance," Alain de Botton, Paul
Bowles and Saint Exupery, the author drives from Amsterdam to Burkina Faso in his Mercedes 190;
his intent to sell the car in Africa. Along the way, he captured the essence of West Africa, its used car trade, rampant bribery and an engrossing wanderlust. A quick, fun read for the transcontinental plane ride.
timelessness in West Africa September 29, 2008
13 out of 13 found this review helpful
I find that travel writing is one of the best ways to attune to one's inner gonzo. Perhaps it's best explained by the saying truth is stranger than fiction. Indeed, the mere experience of finding yourself in sand-swept Nouakchott, Mauritania, just after leaving a comfy flat in Amsterdam can hammer home said reality is a fine feeling to savor.
Especially from the comfort of a good book, which is what My Mercedes is Not for Sale: From Amsterdam to Ouagadougou...an Auto Mis-adventure across the Sahara delivers. Jeroen van Bergeijk tells the story of his seemingly innocuous quest to deliver his car, a Mercedes-Benz 190 D through Saharan Africa in a grand quest to...wait for it...sell it.
But it is so much more than that. After a brief introduction to the culture of Mercedes-Benz as well as his own car, he immediately takes the reader to the dust, deception, poverty, corruption and overall culture of Western Africa and its obsession with the automotive throwaways of Europe. Peppered with the historical outlook of various historical/literary visitors such as James Riley, Mungo Park, and Antoine de Saint-Exupery, the culture becomes more engrossing. It's a comedic, frightening, even meaningful romp through countries like Morocco, Mauritania, Senegal, Ghana, Mali, Togo and Burkina Faso in search of some adventure as well as a quick sale.
The great thing about this book is that it's not geared toward the hardcore car enthusiast, but rather the culture of someplace deemed exotic or authentic; the car is merely the vehicle, ahem, of such authenticity. Which is, he states, in the spirit of Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (to which he often refers), the act of trying to grasp the essence of a place. As the book progresses, he seems to get a whole lot of it, perhaps more than he bargains for.
Africa's authentic essence is timelessness. "Things in Africa come in two forms," he states, "broken and not broken". With the insistence that life is thus lived according to the phrase "god willing" or "inshallah", time really has no place here. He states that for these people, there is no future; everything, every decision is done for the moment for survival.
This sentiment is evident through all characters encountered along the way, from the ever-predictable corrupt border officials (regardless of country), to roving bands of car thieves and drug traffickers, desert guides, car merchants/repairmen, to everyday citizens looking to employ the fine art of finagling or chep-chep, just to make their daily ends meet.
But aside from the corruption, poverty and lawlessness, van Bergeijk also finds a sense of serenity and exquisite freedom in his journey. Meeting colorful tourists and expats along the way he realizes how Africa is a destination for people running away from something, that it has comfort to offer.
In the end, this is an extremely fast and engaging read about an often overlooked area of the world in which is found an essence that's worth deeper examination. It truly is an authentic work, well worth reading.
An hilarious, nail-biter of a road trip across the Sahara August 7, 2008
17 out of 17 found this review helpful
A road trip across the Sahara in a battered 17-year-old Mercedes with 136,000 (at least) miles on it doesn't seem like the kind of trip to undertake alone. Particularly if you don't know the first thing about car repair.
Nevertheless, Dutch journalist Bergeijk can't get the idea out of his head after attending a friend's wedding in Ougadougou in West Africa. Falling into the back of a clapped-out wreck of a Mercedes, held together with rust and baling wire, he discovers the car was originally from Holland.
He's always wanted to drive a Mercedes, so why not across the desert? Determined to have an adventure and make a profit - determined being the operative word - Bergeik sets out with copies of "Sahara Overland," a "Lonely Planet" guide and a Mercedes repair manual that might as well be in Greek.
He encounters lost souls, con men, thieves, low lifes, cut throats and tourists. Little is as he expects it to be. "Or, to put it another way, wherever you go in the world, sooner or later you run into other people and then the party's over."
Entering the desert, he refuses a guide. Within minutes, of course, he's lost and bogged in sand to the axles in a minefield. Yes, a literal mine field. After being rescued, he gets a plate fixed to the bottom of his car to keep sand out of delicate parts and hires a guide.
The guide is a supercilious, chain-smoking, 20-something rap fan. And the road turns to smooth, impeccable asphalt - the new Trans-Sahara Highway. Which is being swallowed by sand almost as quickly as it can be built. "The problem, of course, is maintenance - like everywhere in Africa."
Bergeijk punctuates his narrative with riffs on life in Africa - his take on the African attitude toward the future, poverty, the wealth of the West. The mechanic who installs the plate on the bottom of his car owns only a rickety, inadequate jack. Bergeijk has a good one, which he offers to trade for the work. "No deal. Amadou preferred money." Rather than invest in equipment for his business tomorrow, he needed to pay bills today.
"Now that was one thing. I could follow his reasoning. But then he asked: Can't you give me that jack? Here was someone who could take care of himself, who had mastered a trade, had his own business, and who shamelessly asked: Won't you give it to me? Like a little kid." Annoyed, Bergeijk threw the jack back in his trunk and went on his way.
The narrative makes side trips onto the history of travel in the Sahara, from the horrific experience of shipwrecked merchants in the early 19th century (retraced in Dean King's excellent "Skeletons on the Zahara") to the first motorized Saharan crossing in 1922. He also explores the history of his own vehicle, tracing and interviewing its previous owners, even visiting the factory where it was made.
Funny, sharp and reckless (though he probably wouldn't describe himself that way), Bergeijk has no patience for boors or whiners. His descriptions of the sand-blasted African towns along his route are unlikely to increase tourism while his encounters with people - many of them adventurers like himself - are hilarious, eccentric and occasionally terrifying. The map at the front of the book is useful for following along.
Eye-opening and entertaining, Bergeijk's debut will have readers hoping he travels again.
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