The last
time I visited Berlin was in early 1990. The Wall had only just been breached
by hordes of hacked off East Germans but much of this oppressive structure was
still there. But by that stage it was no longer a political barrier and
thousands of East-siders, free from years of soviet-backed tyranny, were
flooding into the consumerist west to gorge themselves on the many desirable western goods they'd long been denied. But there was still a restricted flow eastwards
across this disintegrating divide and I didn't get to visit the DDR on that
occasion. I could only peer at it, all grey and lifeless, through the arches of
the Brandenburg Tor and wonder what is was like in there.
Checkpoint Charlie, the heavily guarded interchange in the former American zone, was still an imposing military installation but in late 1989 it had witnessed the highly symbolic drive through of many Trabants as they burst, stinking and noisy, into a world where these cars were viewed as one of many travesties that could only be produced by a centrally-planned, socialist economy.
Checkpoint Charlie, the heavily guarded interchange in the former American zone, was still an imposing military installation but in late 1989 it had witnessed the highly symbolic drive through of many Trabants as they burst, stinking and noisy, into a world where these cars were viewed as one of many travesties that could only be produced by a centrally-planned, socialist economy.
Happily
we visited Berlin again recently and this time stayed in and toured the east.
How things have changed. We visited the DDR museum and discovered that those
living on the socialist side of the wall seem to have been trapped in a sort of
time warp reminiscent of seventies Britain. They wore garish nylon clothes,
suffered from intermittent hot water and heating in their gloomy, overcrowded
flats as they watched joyless television on the three available channels. There
was a constant air of paranoia as their society was being surveilled by
anonymous Stasi officers ever-ready to imprison or interrogate recalcitrant
citizens for failing to comply with the socialist orthodoxy.
For those who fell victim it was probably a bit like the sinking feeling we got in seventies UK when the power was cut just as Doctor Who was starting. And worst of all, they drove one of history's most terrible and miserable cars. Even crappier than the rubbish motors the UK motor industry produced in the days of Glam Rock.
Admittedly, we in the UK had a choice of dodgy cars whereas those in the DDR really only had one choice: the Trabant, and they had to wait up to sixteen years before they could get one. Talk about adding insult to injury.
For those who fell victim it was probably a bit like the sinking feeling we got in seventies UK when the power was cut just as Doctor Who was starting. And worst of all, they drove one of history's most terrible and miserable cars. Even crappier than the rubbish motors the UK motor industry produced in the days of Glam Rock.
Admittedly, we in the UK had a choice of dodgy cars whereas those in the DDR really only had one choice: the Trabant, and they had to wait up to sixteen years before they could get one. Talk about adding insult to injury.
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| An anything but 'green' Trabbi |
When you
research these cars you can only wince at how crushingly bad they were. The
body was made of Duraplast which like was a cross between Bakelite and fibre
glass. This stuff was absolutely indestructible and insidiously poisonous
making it impossible to recycle cleanly. They had a tiny 600cc two-stroke
engine requiring uneconomical levels of pre-mixed petrol and oil. At 29 bhp
they could manage only 62 mph whilst delivering an unimpressive 40 mpg.
The engines were noisy and lumpy and pumped out a voluminous white-blue smoke with the oily smell you'd associate with a classic British motorcycle. The column shift was vague; the lever giving only an approximation of which gear you were in at any point in your journey. The unpowered steering was surprisingly light and responsive but the stupid placement of the pedals, offset awkwardly to the right, made the driving position supremely uncomfortable. Imagine the clutch being where you'd expect the gas pedal to be and you get the idea. The brakes were similar to the ones from a classic Mini; adequate but strangely wooden. The interiors were drab and plasticky with little aesthetic thinking involved. Nonetheless, they were quite roomy and had a usable, large boot making them reasonably practical in a godforsaken kind of way.
The engines were noisy and lumpy and pumped out a voluminous white-blue smoke with the oily smell you'd associate with a classic British motorcycle. The column shift was vague; the lever giving only an approximation of which gear you were in at any point in your journey. The unpowered steering was surprisingly light and responsive but the stupid placement of the pedals, offset awkwardly to the right, made the driving position supremely uncomfortable. Imagine the clutch being where you'd expect the gas pedal to be and you get the idea. The brakes were similar to the ones from a classic Mini; adequate but strangely wooden. The interiors were drab and plasticky with little aesthetic thinking involved. Nonetheless, they were quite roomy and had a usable, large boot making them reasonably practical in a godforsaken kind of way.
You might
be wondering how I know all this. Well, I'm pleased to say we decided to do a
'Trabi Safari' courtesy of Trabi World during our visit to Berlin. This is where you drive one of a
convoy of Trabants with other game drivers whilst the lead car traces the route
and offers tourist info' over a Tannoy radio. We chose a factory-spec' Amazon
green car but could have had a car repainted in polka dots, rainbow stripes or
even leopard spots. There were also estate and cabriolet versions available.
Our standard version ran, as you might expect, like an absolute dog. We feared it would stall at any time in the heavy downtown traffic but, to be fair, it kept going, the engine popping and lurching alarmingly as we took on the busiest roads and intersections of the German capital. On the tour we cruised by the many highlights Berlin has to offer leaving a noxious, funky haze in our wake.
Our standard version ran, as you might expect, like an absolute dog. We feared it would stall at any time in the heavy downtown traffic but, to be fair, it kept going, the engine popping and lurching alarmingly as we took on the busiest roads and intersections of the German capital. On the tour we cruised by the many highlights Berlin has to offer leaving a noxious, funky haze in our wake.
Occasionally
we were separated from the main herd when we missed the lights or allowed
pedestrians to cross, but those in front duly pulled over and waited until we
caught up and off we went again driving ever-deeper into the road-madness of
one of the busiest capital cities in Europe. Once you got the hang of the gears
and bizarre pedals you could actually enjoy the driving experience and make good
use of the low-end pep on offer (which rapidly disappears as soon as you try to
engage fourth gear). I'm pretty sure our experience of the weird gear changes
on the 2CV and DS helped us in our transition to piloting a Trabi.
What was amply demonstrated was that as indifferent cars go the Trabant makes the top ten list every day of the week. They define: awful, horrible, dirty, badly-made, crappy and perfectly symbolise why collective economic planning simply couldn't produce decent quality goods. Without the profit motive there was simply no incentive to do so. However, on the modern byways of unified Berlin, we were greeted with waves and smiles as tourists enjoyed seeing what today is a rare car on German roads.
What was amply demonstrated was that as indifferent cars go the Trabant makes the top ten list every day of the week. They define: awful, horrible, dirty, badly-made, crappy and perfectly symbolise why collective economic planning simply couldn't produce decent quality goods. Without the profit motive there was simply no incentive to do so. However, on the modern byways of unified Berlin, we were greeted with waves and smiles as tourists enjoyed seeing what today is a rare car on German roads.
Having
said all that I think to own a Trabi - even ironically - would be be quite fun.
Unique even. It'd be great just to pop to the shops in occasionally. Timing is
everything of course. In 1989 when the Easterners swarmed to the west they
immediately jettisoned their Trabis for better capitalist cars. Many Trabis
were given away for free. Even today, as they have dwindled in number, you can
still get a runner for less than €2000 the indestructible body as
perfect as when it left the factory (just don't ask about everything else!).
If you visit Berlin definitely give the Trabi Safari a go. It might not endear you to the car itself but if it does nothing else it might make you appreciate your own classic more, (even when it decides to play up). And remember, at least you have a choice of what you can drive which was more than the poor East-Berliners had!
If you visit Berlin definitely give the Trabi Safari a go. It might not endear you to the car itself but if it does nothing else it might make you appreciate your own classic more, (even when it decides to play up). And remember, at least you have a choice of what you can drive which was more than the poor East-Berliners had!
Copyright Anthony Boe 2015. All Rights Reserved
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