When everyone was awake and ready to finish the rally we celebrated in the customary way - by destroying a tent. The Mongoliers had for some reason brought a house sized tent with them and as they weren't taking it home or camping in the city centre they/we decided to drive a car through it. As Adam had nearly been murdered by a Mongolier yesterday evening it seemed only fair that he should be the one to drive their Terrios through their tent. Its not everyday you smash a tent with a car so all GoPros were ready and filming. The Mongoliers pretended to wake up and stretch outside their side door while Adam ripped the tent from behind them with his foot to the floor - don't worry I'm sure the video will surface eventually. The laughter faded/grew, depending on whether it was your tent and car or not, as we realised how the remnants of the tent had tangled themselves around the Terrios' front axle. We reviewed videos while The Mongoliers removed their wheels and cut the tent free. Once the tent carcass was tossed in their car we got on the road for the last time as a convoy. The rumours of the road being tar-maced to the finish line continued being partially correct, the road was there but it was covered in huge potholes. Red Lion's clutch hadn't been fixed over night by magical elves, so they were still driving without one. Of course this meant they were stuck hitting the potholes at high speeds and ended up with another flat tyre - this was to be the last event of the rally, so feel free to stop reading now if you like. They conducted percussive maintenance on their bent rims until the wheel held air. We were sent in front to keep The Lion Cub's on a leash and spot potholes for them, and that is how we led the convoy the last two hundred kilometers to Ulaanbaatar. When we climbed over the last hill and saw our first welcoming view of Ulaanbaatar, I began to wonder why we had driven all the way to this bland city. The road into the city was lined by industrial factories producing a toxic smell. The finish line this year wasn't in the city centre, it was hidden in amongst the smog churning factories. We spotted the sign for the finish line and "accidentally" passed it for the opportunity to do one last Haunger special. Unfortunately none of the other teams felt so attached to the U-turns we had grown to love and turned directly into the finish line. We swung round and ended up at the back of the convoy as they entered the finish line graveyard. The official finish line was a ramped podium so we all attempted to drive onto it at once. Unfortunately we were the largest convoy to cross the line and couldn't fit all our cars onto the podium at once. As we were at the end of the convoy it meant we weren't even close to being on the ramp, so we gave the last car a final bump and created a chain of bumping until there was just enough space for all of us.

We had actually completed the Mongol Rally; over 39 days we had driven half-way round the world through 19 countries. We had driven through police-states, deserts, and over mountain ranges. We had been pulled-over, been waved at, made new friends, and new enemies. We had broken down, been pushed and towed until we were "fixed", but we had made it from Scotland to Mongolia in a tiny French car. There was nothing left to do but go out in a blaze of fire extinguisher glory atop our cars on the podium. We were given a celebratory drink of fermented mares milk by the Mongolians at the finish line. What ever you think fermented mares milk tastes of, that is exactly as bad as it tastes. Once we had our individual team photos taken, which we gave the most epic pose we could muster, the drivers had to do some paperwork to sign their cars over. That's when I remembered "Oh s#@t, we actually have to drive home.". The noble steads of the four other teams were to be shipped to Lithuania where they will probably be sold for scrap. The contents of the cars were emptied onto the floor and split into piles to be kept or thrown away. Like hungry vultures the few teams at the graveyard who were planning to drive home were circling around the forming piles. When we spotted something we wanted we turn into the kids we had met along the way, pointing and demanding "mine?". As we had been convoying for so long we had first dibs and collected any cooking and car equipment. One team of Australians with a Terrios canalized The Mongoliers' car for spare parts.

Once the cars were empty and everything people wanted to keep was repacked into their luggage, it was hard but we had to turn our backs on the loyal cars which had carried them so far and head into the city centre to celebrate. We drove, because we still had a car to drive, and followed the Aussies in a taxi to a nice hotel. The taxi wasn't so much a taxi, it was more of a family car, and we didn't follow them to a hotel, we followed them to a tyre shop to repair the family car's punctures. Eventually the tyres were fully inflated and we arrived outside the Genghis Khan hotel and noticed the price. We had wanted to stay somewhere nice but the $160 a night price tag was too rich for our blood. Luckily the $160 covered the free WiFi in the lobby which we used to find a cheaper hotel. The next hotel's $50 a night price tag was much more agreeable, so we all checked in for a few nights. The Royal House Hotel included The Royal Irish Pub so as soon as we had showered, individually, we headed downstairs for a couple of victory pints and a nice meal.