Trabi Tales #2

And so the first mission of 2010 was to get the Trabi home to Blighty. 3,000 kms at an average speed of 60 km/h was a mere 50 hours drive. So we gave ourselves a week just to be safe.

Creature comforts are somewhat lacking in aTrabi. The seats were uncomfortable and not properly attached to the floor, the roof was too low and there was no radio. Even if there was we wouldn't have heard it above the din seeing as the dashboard had the soundproofing qualities of a Kleenex. But we did at least have adequate supplies of Haribo Star Mix.

The main problem however when driving long distances is the position of the foot pedals. Because the wheel arches take up half the width of the car the pedals are offset towards the centre of the car. This means you have to have your right leg at a ridiculous angle to reach the accelerator pedal. The only people anatomically suited to this layout are those with a dislocated pelvis. For the rest of us it's a pain in the arse, literally.

After 2 hours or so of contortion when you can no longer tell if your right leg is still your own you would normally swap drivers however we discovered it is perfectly possible for the passenger to operate the accelerator. In fact we successfully demonstrated that the passenger can also perform this function whilst fast asleep since there is no danger of flooring it and reaching a speed which is a cause for alarm.

The irony is the fastest speed achieved on the whole trip was reached in freefall. On a steep descent most people know to take their foot off the gas and use engine braking to slow up. In a Trabi the opposite is true. If you take your foot off the gas the clutch disengages which allows the car to coast to greater and greater speeds as it gathers momentum down the hill. Using this method we did at one point manage to get the needle beyond the 110 km/h mark. To slow down all we had to do was press the accelerator again. Mental.

Faced with our long journey the decision was made to break up the slog with plenty of cultural exploration. So we headed for Prague, but not before being fined in Slovakia for not buying a motorway permit. Well, on balance we broke even as we didn't buy permits in Hungary or Romania either.

We headed straight for our tried and tested hang out, Hotel Evropa. It's bang in the middle of downtown and is a crazy art deco hotel that is cheap and has its own car park. It also does a good breakfast though we can't vouch for that as we've never made it downstairs in time. After a bit of shopping it was time to see the sights. Clocktower = check. Charles Bridge = check. Favourite beer = Czech. Let's get down the pub.

So off we went taking great care to avoid all the pubs and clubs recommended on the free map and went of in search of the real Czech experience. It is something of a mystery therefore how we ended up in "Coyotes Bar". Within 5 minutes of arrival the (rather attractive) bar staff were emptying the ice buckets over the crowd as DJ Tiesto span up the tunes. At least I think he said DJ Tiesto though it was very noisy and it could have been "DJ Testes". Oz finally fought his way to the bar and was greeted not with a "Hi" but rather the full contents of the soda dispenser which blonde bar girl then turned on her fellow bar staff until they were all rather moist. Dripping, slightly taken aback, and trying to stifle an erection, Oz finally managed to order a couple of beers. Soon after alarm bells started ringing.

Or more precisely the bell behind the bar which was being furiously "donged" by brunette bar girl whilst a neon sign saying "Showtime" lit up behind the bar. Meanwhile DJ Toastie got very excitable and put on "Firestarter". At this point blonde and brunette bar girls started setting fire to things and performed a juggling act with flaming bottles that would put Tom Cruise to shame. And then to top it off they started breathing fire. Two girls spitting hot fluids...reminds me of a film... er, anyway, you could actually feel the heat as 8ft flames shot across the bar. Not content with their fire antics, blonde and brunette bar girls then leapt on top of the bar and were then joined by all the girls servings drinks to the tables. Suffice to say things got a big jiggy. The grand finale was them all walking up and down the length of the bar pouring free alcohol into the mouths of anyone who could reach.

We couldn't help thinking that this is exactly the sort of behaviour often quoted as being the ruin of modern society. We reflected on this and ordered two Absinthes. Many hours passed and the same routine was performed again only with increasing levels of enthusiasm and disregard for public safety. On the third absinthe Nobby forgot to blow out the spoon before stirring in the sugar creating his own hand held inferno. Without hesitation the brunette bar girl unleashed a volley of soda expertly extinguishing the flames before rolling her eyes and calmly getting on with the job of serving 10 Tequila slammers to a baying mob.

Oz's third absinthe on the other hand induced the "I am about to hurl" reflex. As he nonchalantly legged it downstairs to the bogs all plans of vomming were spannered when he opened the cubicle door to find DJ Topsy being noshed off by a drunk girl. Even though he had played "Las Ketchup" only 20 minutes ago Oz resisted the temptation to cover him and his todger in a hot mix of alcohol and Haribo and retreated to the sink.

We couldn't help thinking it was exactly this sort of behaviour that was causing moral standards across Europe to reach an all time low. We reflected on this and ordered two vodkas whilst eyeing up the clunge.

Waking some time the next morning, ok afternoon, we apologised for missing the hotel checkout deadline by 3 hours and headed for Germany. I can report with some confidence that absolutely nothing of any significance happened until the last 15 minutes of the day. We then asked the SatNav to choose us a hotel which it announced was only 3 km off the motorway but declined to tell us it was on 3km of untreated country roads covered in snow and ice. Neither us wanted to mess about putting the snow chains on because it was too cold so we decided to do it the old fashioned way. And got stuck. So once again we found ourselves checking in really late but to be honest we were so knackered it didn't matter. We were the only guests and the owner you could tell was genuinely surprised to see us, so much so he had to go and check he had something to make us for breakfast.

Next morning we had the usual ritual of bump starting the Trabi. At least we were stuck on a hill. A good reason to avoid Holland we thought. After another long day we made Calais and tucked in to a monster All Day Breakfast and then found that England was facing a freak weather phenomenon. Snow. Obviously the last 2 weeks of snow driving paid off as for the first time in recorded history a Trabant was seen overtaking in the fast lane.

And so we made it home. The Trabi was triumphant and in honour of this achievement we have created a new word "Trabi-umphant". Not much use in everyday language but good for a triple word score.

Now all that remains is for Oz to try and salvage some reputation. In his absence his mother had been proudly telling all and sundry at the golf club that her son had gone to "Transvestia" for New Year. Apparently in a moment of dementia she had combined Transylvania and Transnistria to create an entirely new nation. Might be worth a visit though. Banger rally in drag anyone?