Hey Guys,
My name’s (oh, yes, my owner’s never got round to naming me, but anyway..) – I’m a 37-year-old Trabant living in Longmont, Colorado; I got to hear of your competition, and thought “Thank goodness! At last!! Here’s my chance!!” Let me explain. My owner (a crazy Brit named John) needs to drive a Wartburg BECAUSE:
1 – I need a companion
2 – I need a BREAK!
3 – Wartburg’s a core part of his RELIGION
Before you conclude that I, THE CAR, is the one who’s one piston short of a full set of 3 (aah, unfortunate choice of expression!!), let me elaborate:
1 – I need a companion
I am my owner’s only car. I share my quarters (a modest but comfortable garage) with 2 old bikes about my age, a ’74 CZ 125 and a ’77 Jawa 350. We get along pretty well, but at the end of the day, let’s face it – they’re Czech, and I‘m East-German. Stew and Dumplings vs Sausage and Sauerkraut and all that; aside from basic but rugged 2-stroke engines, we don’t have all that much in common. The only other car where we live is John’s wife Mary’s Volvo – this lives outside, and we REALLY DON’T have much in common, besides it’s not always reliable, sometimes throws wobblies for no reason at all, in fact I think it’s got a screw loose and a couple of crossed wires, it’s so complicated, nothing’s ever simple.. The bikes and I suspect it’s female.. I need a big brother from my homeland. I saw the 4-wheeled beauty on your website, and it was love at first sight!
2 – I need a BREAK!
Since a peaceful childhood in my native DDR, you WOULD NOT BELIEVE the whirlwind my life’s become!! After growing up with moderate use and plenty of relaxation time, I was adopted by a family in England who cared for me well, and life remained pretty peaceful. Then the time came to move on, and next thing I knew, about 5 years ago, I was ridden to the coast and put on a ship, bound for…….AMERICA!!! Wow, few of my type in previous years would have EVER DREAMED of even going the other side of the IRON CURTAIN! Well, after 9 days’ sailing and 9 days stood forlorn in the port of Charleston, SC, expecting a truck to carry me inland any day, I looked up and, no there was no truck… There was JOHN!! Yes, just JOHN! With a plane ticket in one hand and a bag of tools in the other. And who promptly jumped inside me and proceeded to drive about 2000 miles across the North-American subcontinent back to the Colorado front range, with a ‘slight’ detour via northern Illinois to meet Mary and her dreaded Volvo! [Not sure which one scared me the most to be honest].. And this was just the shape of things to come! Now don’t get me wrong. I’m extremely well cared for, I receive all the spare parts I ask for, if John can’t buy me the parts he’ll usually make them for me, and I’m kept pretty clean (well, most of the time anyway)! ;-) But Dear Lord, I’m forever driving up mountain passes, into the Rockies, up into Wyoming, hauling fishing gear, my own weight in concrete, you name it! Again, please don’t think I’m ungrateful, I love my new home in the Rockies, the scenery’s beautiful, I’ve met some fascinating new companions (those ‘50s Chevies – it’s true that Americans are rather larger, my word!!), but oh man, I hardly get to see the neighbors, I’m always out! Just some respite, that’s all I ask. John WON’T buy a modern vehicle, so you can forget that one right away! I saw the article about your Wartburg, and – well, I’m sure you understand why I had to write this plea!
3 – Wartburg’s a core part of his RELIGION
Seriously. He’s Lutheran! I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve sat and waited patiently in the Church parking lot, listening to the Pastor talk about the castle Wartburg, and Eisenach – oh, the nostalgia!! I’ve decided that the congregation need to learn a little more about the REAL Wartburg; and what more ideal way to teach them than with your fine specimen?! It would probably be more interested in those Church walls than I really am anyway. And – maybe a Wartburg in their lot would impress them enough that they’ll FINALLY agree to send an exorcist for the Volvo!!!
Your truly,
A 1972 Trabant who still remains nameless..
John Short