Confessions of a Wandering Gypsy Princess

For the move we took Oma’s car. It is an automatic. I was more that a little shell shocked driving the twist and turns and roads of Germany that are in my mind designed for bicycles. I did not drive in Japan. I did not drive in Korea or South America. When I was doing my Masters my mother refused to let me drive the van “it was too big.” Sean let me take his car on occasion. In NEWFOUNDLAND. Our regular roads are the size of Germany’s highways. And with all our land our roads are straight, point your car and wheee. In Turkey I only drove on the highway because Istanbul terrified me with the crazy drivers. So the long point I am trying to make is that I am out of practice. Severely out of practice. And I was never good at backing up.

Backing out of long hill like drive way into fancy car with Mercedes symbol with giant crunching noise is the story I am striving at eventually telling. I have no idea about cars. But I do know if it has a Mercedes symbol it is generally not a good idea to back into it with a sound that your partner hears in his car on the other side of the street.

Good news. There is a reason those cars cost so much. They are well made. Good job German manufacturers!! I promise not to tease Germans about their adherence to perfection in everything for at least a week. There was no damage to the car, and when we knocked on dude’s door he was wonderful about it. No damage no problem. I almost cried. And then we looked at Oma’s car. I now have the title of “Worse Girlfriend Ever Who Does Not Even Speak German.” I cracked the back thingy. I guess it is the fender, thats why its called fender bending. Only instead of bending it was cracking. Oh la la is right.

Did I mention that Stuttgart is also the land of Porsche???  Gack.

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