Three wheels, three people
A real story from the past. In the early 1970s a Leningrad family—father, mother, and daughter—made vacations from Leningrad to Alushta not by car, but on a motorcycle with a sidecar. The journey covered nearly two and a half thousand kilometers. That era offered a tourist idyll in a modern dress, and the voyage began in Moscow after a rest day, then headed south with sleeping under a tent and the essentials packed into a single motorcycle rig. The three travelers embodied a level of comfort that others achieved with four wheels only with difficulty. Long queues for gasoline were common, yet the spirit of exploration stayed strong.
Romance with bus and distributor
Motor tourism gained momentum in the 1950s as passenger cars became more widespread. Pop culture reflected this trend in films like To the Black Sea (1957) directed by Andrei Tutyshkin, The Driver Willy-nilly (1958) by Nadezhda Kosheverova, and Three Plus Two (1963) by Genrikh Oganesyan. Guides of the time offered practical tips for travelers, including the idea of traveling in a small convoy, ideally with like models. For many Soviet citizens the choice was limited to Moskvich and Pobeda, with Volga accessible to a fortunate few. A beloved symbol of travel was the Volga GAZ-21, often described as a luxurious ride.
The emergency kit, a staple for any seasoned motorist, included a 20-liter can of petrol—ideally two—because gas stations were scarce and often backed up with long lines. The chaos seen at stations in 1950s cinema was not far from reality. Serious travelers also carried spare parts: candles, a spark plug and distributor cap, an ignition coil, a drive belt for the oil pump and generator, plus a can of oil and brake fluid. Some even carried a spare brake cylinder and the proper cuffs. The aim was simple: stay mobile and prepared for the unexpected.
Help yourself
Ideally a driver could handle minor repairs alone. In those years many people stopped to lend a hand, while mobile phones did not exist. A memorable story from 1980 tells of a ZAZ-968 that broke a half shaft on the highway from Minsk to Moscow. Crossing a frontier of modern convenience, the Olympics-80 era built phone booths along the Moscow-Europe highway, yet they were rarely useful in time. The local craftsmen who helped when needed became part of the journey. The moral is clear: a trunk full of essential tools kept a traveler moving. A normal car crew valued a complete toolkit, including a chisel and a hammer, ready for anything.
One lesson stood out: without a spare cable or strong tools, a trip could stall. Hitching a ride behind a truck for a hundred kilometers was unpleasant, but it beat abandoning a car on the highway to search for parts that might take days. That mindset defined the practical approach of the era.
Raw rubber, hot vulcanizer
Some travelers packed an extra spare tire on the roof or carried one or two extra camera tubes. Removing a wheel without damage was an art, and if the tire could not be fixed, the rim or tube needed repair. Vulcanizing was a familiar technique. A puncture site would be cleaned, a rough rubber patch applied, and heat applied by electricity from the battery. There were also gasoline vulcanizers where a surface clamp created a petrol bath that warmed and sealed rubber. The trick was to avoid burns and manage the heat safely.
Turtle Principle
Driving was slower then, not out of caution but because the mobile lodging had to keep pace. The seventies favored sturdy tents and robust supporters. Most travelers stayed away from retirement homes or private arrivals, and instead slept in tents or improvised setups. Some treated it as a principle to build a free guest space wherever they stopped. The trio could sleep in the car or on a makeshift seating arrangement, and folding sofas in cars were praised for their practicality in the USSR, Europe, and even the United States.
Roof tents appeared in the 70s, turning the car into a mobile home. A tented living space could unfold from the roof, complete with a ladder. The Skif trailer, a homegrown design from the Urals factory Iskra, appeared in the early 1970s. The 2900 mm trailer with a drawbar could be towed by any Soviet car—from Zaporozhets to the Volga. It looked like a cargo trailer with a lid, but included a space to store tools and goods for the journey. Light-weight wheels and a ground clearance of 240–260 mm ensured it handled rough terrain. In parking areas a 6 m2 tent could be set up from the trailer, with a folding table and four chairs ready beside it. The Skif-1M variants improved awning materials and berth upholstery, eventually evolving into other versions.
Car tourism proved a serious test of endurance and resolve, yet the rewards were clear: the freedom to stop anywhere, to reach places inaccessible to those without a motorized vehicle, and a sense of happiness that grew with hardship.
- Behind the wheel can be read on VKontakte.