Trabi Meet

Photo reportage: Smarties on wheels http://www.tagesanzeiger.ch/auto/sportwagen/Smarties-auf-Raedern/story/19144980 The Ferrari driver on the motorway towards Wädenswil puts his foot down once more as he sees Reinhard Müller, who is chugging along in the right-hand lane at 90 kilometres per hour. Yet the 62-year-old is driving a convertible; it is bright red, just like the Ferrari. Still, Müller cannot keep up with that ostentatious roar. His car rattles and clatters; it is the stink bomb, the walking frame, the Duroplast bomber, the racing cardboard, the workers' and peasants' Mercedes – a Trabant 601, year of manufacture 1963. He is on his way in it to the summer get-together of the Trabantclub Schweiz, of which he is president. Around 20 Trabi fans will meet at the maintenance depot in Wädenswil for beer and sausages, followed by a tour of the Horgen mine. Müller is glad when he can leave the motorway; the braking distance is longer than with modern cars, and many overestimate a Trabant's speed. In addition, the summer heat takes its toll on the plastic steering wheel. It then secretes a strange liquid. That is not too serious. In the GDR, the motto was: 'If you have a hammer, pliers and wire, you'll make it as far as Leningrad.' A dream in Duroplast The Trabant – it is the car that became a symbol of the defunct GDR. For 34 years, from 1957 to 1991, it was the faithful companion in everyday real-socialist life, the result of a policy that trimmed society down to equality and mediocrity. One Trabant was as similar to the next as the average prefabricated flat, the average fashion, the average holiday of the Free German Trade Union Federation. The 601 model remained unchanged for over three decades; promising prototypes were never realized and remained state secrets. Yet it was precisely the Trabi that allowed GDR citizens to rise above this prescribed standard and show their individuality. The gloom sparked imagination, and so many a person put together their own little dream. Reinhard Müller's bright red Trabant, which is now cruising through Wädenswil, was never intended for the average citizen, however. The convertible, nicknamed 'Kübel', was not bright red either, but army green, and was in the service of the workers' and peasants' state. 'In these Kübels,' Müller explains, 'border guards, for example, were on the move until 1989 along the Berlin Wall and the inner-German border facilities.' Whether driving a car that belonged to the vehicle fleet of an unjust regime gives him a stomach ache? Müller adjusts his cap, brakes skilfully before the roundabout and shakes his head. His passion for Trabis has nothing to do with politics. 'Our club is politically neutral.' He is like any other classic car collector. He is interested in the myth and, of course, the technology behind this vehicle made of Duroplast, a mixture of cotton and phenolic resin. The two-stroke engine, for instance, 24 hp, 6.5 litres per 100 kilometres. Or that oil-petrol mixture without which no Trabant can be moved. Actually, Reinhard Müller finds as he turns into the maintenance depot, 'this car is a miracle.' And suddenly they are lined up there, all those Trabis, in blackberry red and muddy green, in ochre yellow and sky blue. Smarties on four wheels. Rolling temple of Ostalgie They have long been waiting for their Reini, as they call Müller. Patrice, Otti, Sepp and Markus – they honk, they wave. How do these Swiss people come to drive a Trabant in the first place? One might think they lack the connection for Ostalgie. But amazingly, the Swiss Trabantclub has the highest number of members in Europe. There are now around a hundred, and their number is growing slowly but steadily. The club has existed since 2002. A hard core of 'Trabologists' founded it back then. The objects of their desire were waiting in garages in East Germany for new, loving owners. Many of them never visited the GDR; others, like Reinhard Müller, actually travelled through the vanished country. They were fascinated by these little cars that dominated the streets and scurried around corners almost phantom-like. Perhaps they were overcome by the feeling many boys have when standing in front of a shop window with cute model trains. They just had to own a Trabant like that. (Created: 04.09.2011, 22:05)