Gretchen: A Fiat Panda in the woods

The following is a short story from my time in Berlin.

'Sucking' and a 'wasp's nest' came to mind when I saw the middle aged lady a few days ago. Her eyes were screwed tight and her lips pushed into a pout of condescension as she glared incredulously at us as we had past by. A companion of her's was a few metres behind, sorting through something in a bag. They sat on their bicycles in a similar manner to that of how the Queen of England used to sit, when inspecting her troops on horseback. The lady infront wore black lycra leggings, a large grey, leaf-patterned wooley jumper and on her back, a brown leather satchel. Her hair was tied tightly into a ponytail so that from a distance she seemed almost bald.

The location of our encounter was in some beautiful woodland just outside Berlin, to the north, in Brandenburg. It had been raining on and off for the past week and the rather uneven and potholed lanes between the trees and ferns were laden with puddles of various sizes. When the weather is more cheerful, the area is very popular with walkers and cyclists. Indeed, a couple of friends and I had been enjoying the scenery regardless of the sunshine hiding behind ominous black clouds. The place was deserted and so it had, at first, been a nice surprise to see other people after nearly an hour by ourselves.

We knew straight away why they were giving us the nasty looks. Little old cars, the size of a Mini are just not meant to go speeding along unkept cycle paths, especially ones that launch vehicles into the air every so often if going fast enough. The two ladies were stationed on a different path and so were in no danger from our antique 'auto' yet they were not amused. Even when all three of us waved in a friendly manner to them as we sped by, their trout-like features did not move an inch.

Of course, they were right, it was not very civil of us to take a car where cars are not really meant to go, yet we were lost and when lost, some rules often have to be disposed of. Having said that, I noticed tractors had used the routes as their tyre marks were imprinted on many of the paths, so maybe we were not totally in the wrong.

A little later we were reminded that we were not indeed a tractor or even a landrover when we lost a few nuts and bolts going over a particulary high ridge in the centre of the track. A large pool of water had hidden a deep trough on the right-hand side. Once back out on the main roads, believing little damage had been done, we found to our dismay that we could not go above 20 km per hour without the engine cutting out. Then to make matters worse, the speed barrier went lower and lower after every 5 minutes until eventually we had to push the car through a town for half a mile to a mechanic's garage. It was at this time I realised German drivers are not like British drivers. They don't get out and help you push the car out of the way, they just sit and honk...and honk...and honk.

Surely this sight would have added a smile to the lady in the woods, a smile of triumphant recognition of her superior reasoning. Perhaps but she wouldn't have a funny story to tell her grandchildren about rally driving through German woods in a little green Fiat Panda.

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Gretchen was born in 1968, in the East German town of Erberswalde, near to Berlin. At the age of 18 she had joined the German Police force and had risen quickly through the ranks. On her days off she likes to test her fitness by either jogging, cycling, sailing or swimming in the many lakes around the capital. Gretchen is well known amongst her colleagues as a perfectionist and reports the most minor of infringments she observes when on patrol and even when off duty. She has been married for nearly ten years to Manfred, a timid dentist who she knew was perfect for her fetish of female sexual domination. Patients and friends have long been worried about Manfred's health.
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Written 7. June 2006.