Go-karts & tempting fate

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Joe (Host Father) had been talking about taking an old car out for a test run and offered the passenger seat to me several days before. I decided to take him up on the offer, thinking I'd see some of the Swiss country side.

I knew the car was open air and when I saw it, the size surprised me. It was TINY. I could barely sit in the passenger seat without feeling I was violating marital oaths. Climbing in also required some work...I swear I've been in roller coasters with more foot space. "British car," I commented, noting the "on" switches.

We (read: the garage employees) had to jumpstart the motor to get it going, then Joe and I were off. The car wheezed and groaned into action; the wheels, a bit off-kilter, caused a few zig zags as we sped up. "First, I move the gear, here, see," gestured Joe. "THEN, I push in the clutch," he explained. I found his next comment much more interesting. "Bad brakes," he said, like a doctor evaluating an MRI and saying "malignant brain tumor" with perfect stoicism.

The ride proved to be at once exhilarating and terrifying to the nth degree. When we came from the airport, we drove about 130 miles per hour on the German autobahn, but in a fairly new car, windows rolled up. Riding in this car was more comparable to riding in a go-kart: low to the ground, with little control, occasional skidding, and a true appreciation for those little rubber life-saving barriers along the route. Sadly, there are no little rubber barriers on Swiss roads! I was just waiting for us to careen into a barn or parked car.

As we sped up, I watched the kph dial diligently. 30 kph, 40 kph, 50 kph. We hit 60 kph and I knew we were going to die (plus we were breaking the speed limit of 50). When we went around a curve at 40 miles per hour, I swore to myself and God that if I didn't die now, I was never going to get into a car with Joe again. Then, we came to a straightaway. Joe shifted into the highest gear. 70, 80, 90, 100 kph! (60 mph!) I could hardly see with the wind in my face.

About 5 minutes into this hair-raising journey, I decided a back-up plan might be a nice idea considering there were no seatbelts and the car came up only about 8 inches above my waist on all sides. My gameplan was foolproof: If we hit a bump or other obstacle in the road, I would cling for dear life to the 12" by 4" leather armrest on my left side (outside of teh car: british-drive right). We passed a mother pushing her 2 children in a stroller and I saw the momentary look of sheer fear for their lives as we passed within two feet at full speed. At least she was only at risk for about 5 seconds, I thought, my eyes closing squinting against the 60 mph wind. But I knew I had been smiling the whole time...

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