I have come up with an answer to the question "Why are you driving to Mongolia?" while pondering in our car, as Romanian showers fell on our metal roof: excerpt as follows.
Answer? "In seek of adventure!" We have hit countless European countries by storm, flying through them at 120 kmh. The garden of Europe and we're romping right through, not appreciating every bug, but seeing the flowers we pass, allowing a detour to climb a tree; as our bang before we fizzle off our restless carbonation we want a romp. We do not feel like sauntering through museums, we'd rather climb on the sculptures. Europe has been our playground and we seek the jungle gyms of Eurasia, the tangled web of Post-Soviet borders and on to the Gobi Sandbox, to play with horses and desert bears. We care not for reservations or train tickets. On a whim we enter Romania detouring a mere 50 kilometers (more of the border guard's whim than our own to be honest). Our car is the ticket to vast countrysides, gorges, rivers, traffic, gas taxes, and mountaintop views. And so we seek Mongolia, but not simply the destination, more the journey and possibly the ride of our lives.