Autobahn

If you are a male, as I am, and you grew up in America, as I did, and you went to public school, camp or church youth group (I did all three), then you've probably had a conversation like this:

Boy 1: "Dude, did you know that there's a road in Germany with no speed limits? It's called the Autobahn! "
Boy 2: "Really? That's awesome!" (Note: The word awesome may be substituted for other slang words indicated the intrinsic goodness of no speed limits, depending on region or generation)
Boy 1: "Yeah, some day I'm gonna drive on it!"
Boy 2: "Me too!"

I've never really been a car guy. I didn't have posters of sports cars growing up, and I always drove clunkers until I could finally afford our Toyota Camry, a responsible automobile which we sold before moving to Plochingen. I don't really know my way around an engine, and I don't have a need to soup up a perfectly functional car to go faster. But, even with all this, I can't escape the romanticism that comes with the word Autobahn. No speed limits. None of those bossy little square signs that shout numbers and guidelines in the combined voice of your father and your kindergarten teacher. None of those small-town cops ensuring revenue to their precinct by crouching behind trees and billboards like hungry pumas, ready to devour those whose only sin was haste. I'm not a car guy, but I've known something that all boys know: speed is fun. The schoolyard equation went something like this: Faster = Funner. More Faster = More Funner. The evidence? Slides. Roller Coasters. Not to mention those car commercials where the wealthy, well-polished man finds achievement, enlightenment and true human potential while driving a German sports car faster than Superman can fly. As a great American thespian once said, "I have a need... for speed."

So yesterday, I dawned my sunglasses, kissed my daughter goodbye, and drove on the Autobahn from Stuttgart to Munich. Strictly speaking, the Autobahn is Germany's interstate system. They have a simple number systems, just as we do. We drove on the A-8, which is like driving on I-8 in the U.S. In fact, we got our idea for the Interstate highway system from Germany. Throughout WWII, the length of time to get war supplies from one end of the U.S. to another was a constant frustration for General Dwight D. Eisenhower. We had no Interstate system at the time, and State roads are slow, windy and aren't always suitable for army caravans. After conquering Germany, he was so impressed with the Autobahn system that he imposed one on us when he became president a decade later. Except ours had speed limits.

What was my stallion? A Mercedes? A BMW? A Porsche? Nope. My car was a Ford Focus, baby. Ok, but this is par to course. In Germany, Ford actually does good business selling things that are practical - and I happily turned on the radio as I drove a vehicle with decent trunk space (a luxury over here) and good gas mileage (a necessity).

To my disappointment, one of the first things that I saw on the hallowed highway was a speed limit sign. Yes, there are speed limits on parts of the Autobahn. Usually for construction, proximity of a busy city area or just a hazardous mountain road. The restrictions usually fall around 100 kilometers/hr. (60 MPH), 120 KPH (75M MPH) or 130 KPH (80 MPH). But those don't last forever, and eventually, I came to a place where I saw those accusing numbers crossed out. Restriction erased. It was there that I stomped the pedal like a Sumo Wrestler and let out my barbaric yalp, which caused a confused stare from my wife over in the passenger's seat.

Yes, I hauled. I hauled as fast as that little Ford motor could safely carry us in those condition, which was about 140-150 KPH (86-93MPH). Ok, so I didn't do anything manly or death defying. But at least it was nice not to be concerned about the speed limit. Here's the other thing: the driving was relatively safe, in spite of the lack of speed controls. That's because in Germany, there are additional traffic rules, and, here is the key, people actually follow them. The Germans don't have the liberal interpretation of traffic statues that most Americans have. During the entire trip (about two hours), no one, and I mean no one, attempted to pass me on the right. Turn singles blinked, people slowed down if needed to. That's not to say there weren't impatient jerks on the road - that's a cultural universal. But these were rule-abiding jerks - insufferable but not dangerous. The slow cars and trucks (tractor-trailer trucks have speed limits and additional rules imposed, no matter where we are) compliantly stayed in the right lane. I was a middle lane kind of guy, traveling at middle lane speed. The left lane - you should've seen the rubber burn there.

Every once in awhile, I would look in the mirror and see one of those beautiful German cars in my rear-view mirror. Mercedes, Porsche, BMW, Audi. Sometimes it was hard to to tell. Behind me, they would just be specs on the horizon. They would pass me in a flash of black (it was almost always black). Then, they would be a spec somewhere forward, in the future. That is the majesty of a German sports car, using the Autobahn for its created purpose. I'm sure their drivers achieved enlightenment and true human potential while in their vortex. Or in any case, whatever they experienced could be described in two words: More funner.