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On The Autobahn, No One Can Hear You Scream

Some random thoughts from Bavaria:

Germans are very tall people (even when the platform shoes are taken into account). Sometimes I feel like I’ve stepped into the second half of Gulliver’s travels. My boss is two meters tall -- that’s 6.5617 feet.

I receive both the Panorama from the Porsche Club and the Roundel from the BMW club. I have to say that I find the Roundel the more interesting of the two. I think it’s really unfortunate that the Roundel’s Editor-in-Chief / Grand Poo-Bah, Yale Rachlin, is stepping down.

I have religion now. I may never pass someone on the right again.

The women here wear the high platform shoes, with designs ranging from pumps to sneakers. I’m talking some serious elevation here. A lot of women also dye their hair red. The gamut runs from natural-looking red highlights to Guards red.

I’ve become a second-hand chain smoker.

You pay for everything in restaurants here in Germany. This includes the table bread, water, salad, and so on. I suppose you also do in the States, but they usually don’t usually count how many pieces of the bread you had.

My apartment building is older than the United States (I like saying that). Luckily, it’s been refurbished since then.

The Danube is not blue. It’s more of a murky brown color.

My current favorite car in Europe is the Ford Ka, with its massive 60 hp engine. It’s a little bigger than the 2-door Speck in the McDonald’s commercial, but it’ll still do 100 MPH (downhill) on the autobahn.

What’s the big deal with Mercedes? They’re just taxi cabs here.

I can’t believe people pay money for the Lincoln Town Truck (or Navigator, as Ford likes to call it) in the States. Just call me a small-car person, I guess.

I wish I could read the German car magazines. It takes such a long time to learn German. It’s like they have a different word for everything.

Europe may have good chocolates, but they just don’t know junk food. As much as they eat potatoes here in Germany, it’s hard to find good potato chips. There’s no Twinkies, tortilla chips, chocolate chip cookies, brownies or even frozen cookie dough. It’s obvious that the United States must carry the world-wide burden of preserving the couch potato’s junk food.

Sorry -- I still don’t get the appeal of soccer.

Squash only resembles racquetball. Since the ball doesn’t actually bounce, game play is rather quick for me.

On Sundays, everything closes down. The only things open are restaurants and gas stations. Everybody walks on Sundays (probably because there’s nothing else to do).

I feel like I’m in junior high again. I get around by foot, bike or bus. If I’m lucky, I can bum a ride from a friend.

The washing machines here heat the water electrically. There’s no connection for hot water. There’s typically three temperature settings: 30°, 60° and 95° C. That’s Celcius, not Fahrenheit-they boil their clothes here.

This may sound heretical, but if given the choice, I think I would pick the Lotus Elise over the Porsche Boxster.

The stores used to close at 5:00 or 6:00 pm on weekdays. About a year ago, the stores started closing at 8:00 pm during the week days (woo hoo!). On Saturdays, they close any where from 2:00 p.m. to 4:00 pm. I haven’t found a 7-11 in Germany yet.

I can’t understand German rap music at all.

I still like the old BMW Z1 over the current BMW Z3. And being in Bavaria, it seems I see more BMWs than any other car.

There appears to be more Italian restaurants in town than German ones. What I’d really like to see is a Taco Bell or a Hungry Howie’s.

“Hey babe -- sprechen Sie englisch?” is not a good opening line at the clubs.

Motorcycle riders here seem to like wearing full leathers when they ride. And sometimes Germans wear leather, whether or not they’re riding.

The dogs here only obey German commands. The cats are multi lingual -- they ignore commands of all languages.

I haven’t seen the castle at Disney World (Land?), but I hear that Crazy King Ludwig II’s Neuschwanstein castle in southern Bavaria is almost as nice.

The parking _polizei _ in Regensburg is as good as any in the world. Park illegally anywhere, and you can be assured of a parking ticket within a few minutes. And people say there’s no crime in Germany.

You can buy beer at a German McDonalds. It’s cheaper than a Coke.

If I don’t get a tv soon, I may have to start watching Formula 1 races in person.

They say that the sex scandals that seem to constantly loom over Bill Clinton would never happen in Germany. They’re right. Have you ever seen Chancellor Helmut Kohl?

Please --don’t ever tell me what’s in Weißwurst sausages.

<< May 1998<<

>> July 1998>>

(The BahnStormer is the official newsletter of the Rally Sport Region (Detroit area) of the Porsche Club of America. You can contact the editor at .)

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June 1998

On The Autobahn, No One Can Hear You Scream