"Oh Lord, Won't You Buy Me a Mercedes-Benz"

Yesterday we went to the tiny Porsche Museum, which was neat. They are building a new one soon to compete with the very cool Mercedes-Benz Museum here in Stuttgart. We went there today. It is amazing! Think Guggenheim with a huge 8-story spiral looking down on a massive hall. We saw the first motorcycle, the first Daimler and Mercedes cars, Princess Di’s Mercedes (that she was pressured by the royals to return in favor of a British-made car), war planes, the SUV used in the second Jurassic Park movie, and even the Pope-Mobile! We had a ball. With all of that, Luke's favorite part was being able to climb on a city bus they had on display. Go fig.

It is still so odd to me that you really do see more Mercedes here than any other kind of car, even BMWs, Volkswagens, or Opels. I rarely see a Ford, Honda, Chevy or Kia unless driven by Americans. Because Mercedes is based here, all of the buses, trash trucks, construction vehicles, and such are made by them. There really is something to the idea of excellent German engineering. You can actually get a ticket if your car breaks down or runs out of gas! That worries me since our 14-year-old Mitsubishi Galant has some quirks. But it gets 36 miles to the gallon, which is great! We are lucky that we can buy gas on base for roughly what Americans are paying back home. Germans are paying about the equivalent of $8 a gallon (after you convert dollars to euro and liters to gallons). They think we are a bunch of crybabies.

But American cars are huge compared to European cars. I know an American lady who has four kids and drives a Suburban that she brought over from the States. It’s so mammothly huge that she can't park the thing anywhere but the hotel and on base! What I'd like is one of those little Smart cars. You see them everywhere here. Mercedes makes them (of course). They look like little wind-up toys. It's like they took a regular-sized car, chopped off the trunk and back seat, squished up the engine and viola! Smart. Except it’s pronounced “shmart”. It literally takes up about half a parking space. They make Smart sports cars and even Smarts for four. But Dave wants a Mini Cooper, which is about the second most popular car around here.

I don’t care what I drive as long as I can take back roads instead of the autobahn. I can’t seem to get my GPS to recognize that. Oh, and by the way, I got my German drivers license Monday. I now know that the person to the right always has right of way unless the signs say otherwise, including on roundabouts (think about that one—it means you have right of way coming on, not when you are already on). I know that you can get a ticket if you sit with your engine idling for more than 30 seconds. You are required by law to carry an emergency kit in the passenger side floorboard as well as a parkschein, which is a cool little blue card with a clock on it that you dial to indicate the time you park in the city. The hardest thing for me, though, is remembering to watch signs at all times to see whether or not I have the priority road. That gives right of way, even in situations you don’t expect like coming onto a major street. I’m getting it, though. I just won’t drive with Dave in the car. It makes me too nervous. I really am feeling more confident on the road little by little. But until I feel 100 percent on target, I am glad I have my old clunker instead of a brand new Mercedes. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.