Back in March, I decided to do something that, on paper, sounded fairly simple: drive from Bucharest to Sofia. Two EU capitals, not that far apart—should be a breeze, right? Google Maps said it was around 400 kilometers. I figured, “What’s that, four or five hours tops? Piece of cake.”
Oh, how naïve I was.
Let me tell you, this drive turned out to be less of a casual road trip and more of a low-key endurance test. Not because the roads were terrible—actually, they were in decent shape—but because, despite being a route between two major cities, most of it is not highway. Let that sink in.
Once you leave Bucharest, you quickly realize that the dream of zipping down a multi-lane highway with cruise control and your favorite podcast is exactly that: a dream. Instead, welcome to the world of two-lane roads. One lane in each direction, with the occasional passing lane thrown in like a bone to keep you from losing your mind.
And here’s the kicker: traffic. Oh, there was traffic. Not jam-packed like in a city center, but just enough to ensure you’re constantly stuck behind someone going 60 km/h in a 90 zone. Usually a truck. Or an old Dacia. Or a tractor. Sometimes a horse cart (not joking). So you get this dilemma every 5 minutes: Do I patiently trail behind at a snail’s pace, or do I take my chances with a heart-rate-spiking overtaking maneuver into the oncoming lane?
Now, I know what you’re thinking: “But aren’t Romanian and Bulgarian drivers known for their… aggressive style?” Yes. Yes, they are. And yet, somehow, the slowest drivers in Europe all decided to take this exact route on the same day I did. It’s like they were having a secret Sloth Rally and forgot to tell the rest of us.
And here’s the soul-crushing part: you finally find a chance to overtake a turtle car—you risk your life, your tires screech, adrenaline pumping—you pull it off! Victory! Only to find… another one. Just 500 meters ahead. And behind you? A whole convoy of equally frustrated drivers tailgating you, praying you’ll be the brave soul to clear the way. Spoiler: you won’t. Not for another half hour, at least.
Trust me, with all the winding mountain roads, there just aren’t that many places where overtaking is even possible—
and even when there is, there’s almost always a line of oncoming traffic hogging the opposite lane.
Under this kind of pressure, even the simplest things become strategic dilemmas. A bathroom break? A quick cigarette to calm your nerves? Think again. Because you know what’s going to happen: you’ll pull over, do your thing, come back out—and BAM. All those turtle cars you risked life and limb to overtake? They’re back in front of you. Taunting you. Like some twisted road-trip version of Groundhog Day.
There were moments of peace, sure. Some stretches through hills and forests were even scenic enough to make me briefly forget the madness. But after 7 hours of playing traffic leapfrog, even the prettiest countryside starts to lose its charm.
By the time I rolled into Sofia—ten hours after I left Bucharest—I was a broken man. Okay, maybe not broken, but I was definitely craving a strong coffee, a hot shower, and a long nap.
The moral of the story? Just because two places are neighbors doesn’t mean the road between them is fast or easy. The EU may have open borders, but apparently not open highways.
Would I do it again? Maybe. But next time, I’m either flying or waiting until teleportation becomes a thing.
