What a mixture of child and woman I was. “…to be able to make life as in novels, to be and to go where excitement fills the days.” Conrad knew, when he wrote.

Contributing to Mum’s alarm, she had just visited a clairvoyant who predicted, “Your daughter, she is riding in an extremely small vehicle. It is studded with rivets—perhaps an army tank. It is moving all the time… but she is very happy.”

My personal conduct was looked upon with chagrin by the nuns—uncorrectable. To nourish the yearning for excitement, books became dreams, became diaries, then impromptu dramatic plays with several close chums.

I had a new dignity to uphold. People everywhere would be watching; one had to be a capable young woman—no longer the school girl. I was participating in a hazardous exploit, risking life and limb…. Remember: posture, bravery, humilité, and the Family Motto: `To Per-se-vere.’

By this time it was obvious that a basic problem for the female itinerant was finding a little privacy to accommodate nature. The human race has developed a considerable variety of such conveniences but they were excruciatingly scarce in 1922. Either females did not travel in Italy or the Good Lord provided them with extra capacity stowage.

People cannot comprehend—could never understand me—I’m sure. Something impelled this wanderlust. I would not be detained. Not for riches certainly.

The explicit communication of the eyes can be a commitment stronger than any other. This was to be a very long one if I attained my determined desire to see the world with this man. What he had just confirmed—the answer that he could love me, but had sensed terms. The question must remain perpetually at stake: Could we hold out against each other?

Astonishment was evident when our strange sight rolled up: armored motorcar, flags, guns, begoggled occupants—incredible—a girl in flying helmet! Striding forth, smiling, we saluted.

We were off! The whole world was out there. I reaching for it, the world reaching for me—ecstasy—the ravishing thrill.

I don’t know which was worse, the angry elephants or the snakes.

But I was to remember how the confines of a car, its reassuring purr and motion breeds an extraordinary sense of isolation, intimacy… privacy.

Captain Wanderwell, being fond of the Ford, would take the ford chassis and redesign the body. Making the Speedster Tail Section. The wheels were to be changed to tractor style raising the ground clearance and to be able to have the rubber tires removed thus allowing the auto’s to run on the railroad tracks.

I had long endeavored to take on every available task, was so proud, felt quite confident I could run the Expedition. But suddenly, I felt years older. So much responsibility weighed heavily on my young shoulders; I crawled into bed at night just a tired, weary child.

Every frontier was a tremulous question mark to approach with extreme diplomacy. We were the first—Pacesetters of the decade of modern motoring to come.

That surge of activity gripped me. Oh, to get out into that milling new world—to sights, happenings strange as the imagination could possibly depict!

CALL TO ADVENTURE – A True Story

In her own words, the remarkable ALOHA WANDERWELL BAKER tells the true story of her amazing 7 year journey around the world in a Model-T Ford with the Wanderwell Expedition in the 1920s.

Containing Aloha’s 1939 memoir, “Call To Adventure,” and with exclusive newly-commissioned essays, photos and supplemental materials from the author’s estate, “Aloha Wanderwell: Call To Adventure” takes the reader along on her epic trek through Europe, the Middle East, India, Japan, China, the Soviet Union, the United States, Cuba, and Africa – a thrilling adventure made all the more astounding by the fact that Aloha herself was only 16 years old when she set out to see the world by car.

“Aloha Wanderwell: Call To Adventure” is a remarkable tale told by a remarkable woman.

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Call to Adventure Book