THE PROJECT.
My name is Rauno. I go by Vunts for my friends. I've been driving cars people said couldn't make it across Europe, and then making them do it anyway, for about six years now.
It started with a VW T3 that was too rusty and had a totalled engine. Six months of rebuilding. People said it would never make it. It made it across Europe. Then we did it again — same bus, this time with our son on board, 9 months old — and people said we couldn't do that either with a baby. That was the best trip we've ever done.
The third one was a 1982 Porsche 911SC. Two adults, a toddler, a cat, inside a classic sports coupe that technically fits none of us. Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania, ferry to Germany, Austria, Italy, Sardinia, Spain. We funded the project through partnerships — best job ever. The eurotrip was cut short when my back gave out somewhere in Spain — the pain didn't let me drive anymore. The 911 went home on a trailer and we flew. But the project never stopped.
Now: the car is back in the garage. My back is being rebuilt — possibly surgery. The project is not over. When both are ready, we continue.
This is documented honestly — the repairs that work, the ones that don't, and everything on the road in between. The merch funds the project. The partnerships make the longer chapters possible. And underneath all of it is one simple thing I want my son to understand: you don't buy value — you build it. You don't preserve the car — you drive it. You don't wait until the timing is perfect — you go.
If this is the kind of project you want to see more of — follow along. Instagram and TikTok: @slowmile.co. We post when something real happens.
WHAT SLOW ACTUALLY MEANS
Not a speed. Not a pace. Not caution. A decision.
Slow has nothing to do with how fast you drive. It's about how present you are when you're doing it. A slow mile is a mile you were there for — noticed, chosen, remembered.
The name pushes back against the way most people travel: motorway, optimal route, fastest option, arrive, check the box. Slowmile takes the mountain pass. Stops at the village. Films what's actually there. Not because it's content — because that's the point.
It's not about driving slow. It's about making every mile worth something. Being present for where you are instead of rushing to where you're going.
Every route chosen. Every stop noticed. The long way taken on purpose — not because you got lost.
The mile you're in is the point. Not the destination. Not the next checkpoint. Right here.
Know what you own. Build it with your hands. Understand why it breaks and how it works. That's slow too.
Filmed because it happened — not because it looked good. Real footage of the actual project.
WHAT WE BELIEVE
SIX THINGS WE STAND FOR
Every trip was "impossible." None of them were. The pattern is three for three. When people say you can't, that's useful information. It means they haven't tried.
You don't need the right car. You don't need the right time. A beaten T3 with a totalled engine made it across Europe. The decision to go is more important than anything you go in.
Cars exist to be driven. Hard. Far. In all weather. We have no patience for garage queens or cars kept perfect under covers. Patina means it went somewhere. We value that.
We show what actually happened — including the back giving out in Spain, the car going on a trailer, the family on a plane. That's the deal. Real problems, real roads, real outcomes.
Teaching my son that value comes from building something, understanding it, using it — not just owning it. That's in everything: the car, the merch, the project itself.
Roadtrips are not the fastest way from A to B. They're not supposed to be. Every mile should be worth something. If you're rushing through it, you're missing it.
VW T3 — TWO ADULTS + CAT
A completely rebuilt Volkswagen T3. The body was too rusty, the engine was totalled. Six months of rebuilding. People said it would never make it. It made it. Two adults and a sphynx cat, living inside a van they fixed with their own hands.
SAME T3 — BABY ON BOARD
People said sell the T3 — you have a baby now. They went again. Same bus. New passenger: our son, months old. The best trip we've ever done. The "impossible" got bigger and the result got better.
1982 PORSCHE 911SC
Estonia → Latvia → Lithuania → ferry to Germany → Austria → Italy → ferry to Sardinia → ferry to Spain. Two adults, a toddler, a cat — inside a classic sports coupe that fits none of them. Sponsors paid for it. The impossible became the job.
PROJECT PAUSED
My lower back gave out. The 911 went home on a trailer. We flew. The project didn't end — it paused. Now: rebuilding the car, rebuilding the back, planning the next chapter.
WHAT'S NEXT
Continue from where it stopped. The 911 will drive again. The project continues. This is not a conclusion — it's a chapter break. Watch the rebuild. Watch the return.