Idaho Life: Germany 1971

Germany 1971

The ancient German farmer came out from a blind corner right in front of us. I slammed on the brakes and pulled left, but I couldn’t avoid him. He was driving a walk behind hay mower that was pulling a small trailer. He was straddling the trailer tow bar. Impact was my VW’s right front wheel to his mower blade. The impact sent him flying.

Pregnant Hedda was ok, as were my Mom and Dad and two year old Lisa. The old man miraculously got up. His hay mower didn’t look the worse for wear, but the right front wheel of my VW was torn off. The poor old farmer said he was not hurt. He was telling the neighbors that he panicked and froze at the controls.

This incident happened just as we were leaving the Black Forest city of Baden-Baden. Because there was an American involved the local police called the State Police and they arrived in a motor home. They interviewed us separately and agreed that the skid marks of my little VW matched up with my story. They said it was the farmer’s fault and I collected the insurance information. We had the car towed to a shop and made arrangements to rent a car and continue on our vacation. My Mom and Dad had another adventure to add to there European trip log.

We made our way back to Kaiserslautern where we lived. After sending the tourists home, I still had a few days of vacation left so we got the older VW out of the storage lot, transferred insurance and registration and headed for Holland.

We had just bought the other car expressly for the European tour with my folks. This VW was in the storage lot because it was not meant to be driven far. I filled it with oil and packed a few spare quarts to get us through the 200 mile drive to Hedda’s house. At the first hill we almost came to a stop. It was like the little engine, “I think I can. I think I can.”

We made it to the top and pulled over to the side. The old VW’s were air cooled and don’t have a temperature gauge, but I knew it was overheating. I topped off the oil and used the oil can and some bungee cord to prop the hood open hoping this would allow some more air to cool the air cooled engine.

We decided to keep to the small roads and stay away from the autobahn. The six hour trip took us about ten hours and I was all out of oil by the time we got to Hedda’s parents house. We also “lost” first and reverse gears in the transmission. The little VW did its job and got us to Holland. I figured I could just run it over to the junk yard and they might even give me some beer money for it. No such luck. Because it had not been properly imported to Holland they couldn’t even take it off my hands for free without paying import taxes. Pa Hardeman said just leave it with him. He would take off anything usable and bury what was left in the back yard. Years later when a construction crew built new houses there, I bet they were surprised to find a VW graveyard.

Hedda and Lisa stayed in Holland and I took the train home. I was scheduled to go TDY (temporary duty) to Spain for four weeks. I found a lawyer, gave him power of attorney for the car that was wrecked and all the information about the farmer and his insurance and left for Madrid.

As things sometime happen in the military, four weeks turned into six weeks. When I got back to Germany I caught a taxi to the lawyer’s office and got there just before they closed. He had a check for me that covered the loss of the car, the cost of the rental car, and his fees. I signed the check and he cashed it for me. I walked over to the German version of Hertz, rented a car and headed for Holland.

That is how three weeks later we were carless. I was able to catch a ride to and from work, and we had made arrangements with the landlady who lived downstairs to bring us to the hospital and watch Lisa when it was time for the baby.

Hedda said “Steve, I think it is time.”

I went downstairs while she packed a bag. The landlady’s mother answered the door and said she was babysitting and no one else was home. This family was always home! I went back upstairs, gathered what little cash we had, walked to the Gast Haus to call a taxi, got the landlady’s mother to watch Lisa, and off we went to the hospital.

When Lisa was born, I was right there helping. Giving advice, holding a hand, amazed at the miracle of birth. In the American Army hospital I wasn’t allowed in the delivery room I was regulated to the father’s waiting room like a bad TV sit com. Sometime in the middle of the night, Steve Jr. was born. Mother and baby were fine. Now when we left home, I had only found enough money for the taxi ride to the hospital. I had to walk/hitchhike the six miles back home at three o’clock in the morning.

When I look back on those times I am amazed at how we ever survived. Driving a junk car to Holland with a two year old and a pregnant wife. At home with an overdue pregnant wife and no cash on hand in case of an emergency.

What were we thinking!

Looking back, I guess I wouldn’t change a thing.