Cindy-Lou Dale

It was at about the time that the Berlin Wall went up that East Germany started producing Trabant cars, the automotive joke of the Cold War. We sent our intrepid road warrior Cindy-Lou Dale to the once-divided city to road test a surviving Trabi cabrio and to snap photos of the points of interest in Germany’s most intriguing city.

The city of Berlin has suffered a sorrowful past like no other. It began in 1933 when Adolf Hitler was named German Chancellor. Thereafter, the city endured the annihilation of its Jewish community, a historical fact the German capital has yet to recover from. At the end of World War Two, Hitler’s dreams lay smashed in 18-square miles of bombed out ruins. Then the Cold War power struggle resulted in the 97-mile Berlin Wall in 1961, dividing the country and tearing the city in two for near three decades.

Thankfully, the wall came down in 1989, marking the dawn of a new era for the relatively new city, still redesigning its image with world-class architecture, modernity and fast paced life.

Its tortured past aside, it’s the unique and irrepressible ambience that exudes from each building and every citizen which one can truly feel; one of acceptance and freedom, tolerance even; embracing all things decadent. There is an air of unpretentiousness amongst Berliners who are open-minded and non-judgemental. As such the city is a magnet for non-conformists and creative minds drawn by the bizarre nightlife, expressionist art and cheap rentals. Being a little unconventional myself I succumbed to the unpolished charm of touring Berlin in a Trabant, a remarkable low-tech plastic resin motoring relic of the bygone communist era.

Thus two days later, I found myself folded into the backseat of a Trabi convertible, which smelled oddly and permanently of cat urine, being propelled along Ebertstrasse with Eicke, my kindly and differential guide from Trabi-Safaris behind the wheel.

“The life expectancy of a Trabi was around 28 years,” Eicke claimed. “This baby is a modest performing Trabant 601, built around 1967 and is one of the faster models. It takes 21-seconds to reach 60-miles per hour and her top speed is about 75,” he announced proudly, whilst lunging unexpectedly down a side-street.

The features of the Trabant (which was in production without any significant changes for nearly 30 years) that most impressed East Germans was that it had room for four adults, a little luggage and was light and hard-wearing – additionally it could be delivered within a few short years of placing the order! Its styling was very simple, its interior frugal, and its body was made entirely from Duraplast – a plastic resin containing wool or cotton – which East Germany considered sufficient material to build a car. It may not have faired too well in crash tests but actually proved to be superior to some modern-day hatchbacks. Although this two cylinder, two-stroke motor, with only five moving parts, spews out more clouds of CO2 that a jet liner, and sounds as if it belongs in a barn, it is the first car with a body made entirely of recycled material.

Eicke took me into the eastern part of the formerly divided capital, along the way driving by the Gendarmenmarkt, Palace Square and Alexander Square. We spluttered along Karl-Marx to the trendy Friedrichshain, past the East-Side-Gallery to Red Townhall. From there we continued to Berlin Cathedral and Museum Island, via Ebertstrasse, past the Memorial dedicated to the Murdered Jews of Europe, pressing on to the city’s most famous landmark – the Brandenburg Gate – a monument comprising of Athenian-like stone columns topped by a statue of the goddess Victoria driving a chariot of four horses towards the city centre. We parked off here for a while watching a free-spirited individual prancing around the columns in his fairy costume, until we were encouraged by the local constabulary to move along.

We continued through the government district, past the imposing Reichstag and the Federal Chancellery into hip Scheunenviertel with the golden domed New Synagogue on Scheimannstrasse. We valiantly coughed our way along Dirksenstrasse, each mile taking us further away from the internet cafes, designer stores and the usual tourist haunts. Eventually the city gave way to grey apartment blocks and essentially local traffic.

On Heinrich Heinestrasse, Eicke pointed out a dilapidated building, about ready for the wrecking ball, claiming it to be a notorious nighttime haunt frequented by the city’s darker side. I quietly wondered if it had ever been willingly visited by an outsider.

Eicke and I spoke at length about Trabant’s. In 1991 after nearly 4,000,000 Trabants had been built, production stopped. The factory where they were produced in Zwickau is now a car museum. The future for Trabi-Safari’s does not look much brighter either as EU legislation regarding CO2 emissions could prevent them from operating in the city, which in effect would close them down.

We stopped off at the Trabi-Safari office in order that I could take a few photographs of their fleet. Stepping into the warehouse charged me with an unfocused electric buzz of energy. It felt as if I had uncovered a squadron of Cold War-era time machines.

Evidently my admiration was etched on my face as Eicke enquired if I would like to take custody of the steering wheel. He ran through the series of temperamental quirks in getting the world's simplest car going. Turn the fuel tap to A, pull the choke, step on the accelerator, start the engine, depress the clutch, put it into first gear, then slowly release the clutch pedal. It took a moment for the little car to gather the energy required to inch forward. Initially the movement was glacially slow and I could not find a gear I particularly liked on the column shift. Then a smoky bang from the exhaust thrust us forward ten feet, paused and then with the aid of a fresh explosion took off with a velocity seldom seen outside a Road Runner cartoon. Shrieking hysterically we flew down Oraniestrasse like an Exocet Missile, creating scenes reminiscent of the streets of Pamploma when the bulls are running. Motorists and pedestrians alike fled in terror before me as I inadvertently chased a flock of purple-rinsed tourists off a zebra crossing.

Somewhat wild of hair and in an extremely animated state Eicke urged me to pull over.

“Meine Liebe Gott,” he gasped.

“Well, they were jay-walking,” I observed helpfully.

Eicke fixed me with a final threatening scowl and suggested that perhaps he should drive.

Checkpoint Charlie was our next stop; a former border crossing for the Allies, the icon of the Cold War with its small wooden guard house on the West side, a white border-line across the cobblestones, a guard tower and a much photographed sign warning in several languages that ‘You are now leaving the American sector.’ When the Wall went up, Charlie was the trouble spot of international concern when several American tanks rolled onto the Soviet Sector and parked several yards into East Berlin, facing Soviet tanks. Kennedy visited Charlie on his famous Berlin trip and Charlie is where Reagan stuck his foot across the border-line, mocking the communists, daring them to shoot; this was also the border-point where John Le Carré brought his spy in from the cold. To keep the dark days of the Cold War fresh in our minds, a manned reconstructed guardhouse remains.

Eicke considered the historical urban site before him – gleaming new architecture standing side-by-side with relics from the past. 

“The history of Berlin will determine its future more than in other cities, and something new will always follow,” he observed thoughtfully.

Taking me back to my hotel, the Grand Hyatt of Trump-like splendour on Potsdamer Platz, where coincidentally Europe’s first traffic lights were located, Eicke told that in recent year’s talks were held in Frankfurt with car manufacturer Sachsenring who had a vision about launching a new version of the Trabant in Africa. The idea was to slightly modify the Cold War cult car by making it not only the cheapest car on the African market but one also suitable for moving farm goods and building materials. The concept of dirty, noisy vehicles being taken up by large numbers of people in developing countries may be a concept which causes alarm amongst environmentalists, but at this stage it appears to still be only talk.

Later, a whispering cab took me to the airport where an eagle-eyed stick of a woman briskly saw me onto my flight back to Brussels, where my 2006 model German automobile waited to take me home. It was only when my foot tentatively touched the gas pedal and I shot off at such a speed that my head became a howling sphere on the end of a whip-like stalk, that I realised just how souped-up modern day cars truly were.

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