Don’t do what I say
Don’t do what I say,
don’t do what I do.
(An old jungle saying.)
Monday, 4th November 2002
That week wasn’t one of the best, but it was interesting.
The first unloading was at D-56220 Urmitz, Germany. The next place was 61267 Neu Anspach. We didn’t get there that day, nor the next. Ossis came around the corner on the wrong side of the road. The wrong side is the right side in England. Aka the left side. But in Germany, right is right and left is wrong. Ossis didn’t fit from there. Wessis wouldn’t have either. Oil had leaked from somewhere and Ossis had lost control, there’s nothing more to say about that.
The truck was towed to a Volvo repair shop in Limburg. The repair shop was called THOMAS NUTZFAHRZEUGE.
We were towed to an inn called ALT-STAFFELT. It was on Koblenz straße. After the railway, right on the top of the hill. We just sat back and waited there, not bad really. Seppälä’s truck took our trailer and continued distribution all way to Austria. Pekka left his trailer to us. Thank you, Heikki Seppälä Ky.
Hannu and I were turned into tourists, and how we wandered. Probably more than ever before. We went to church, too. The cathedral of Limburg. And boy, was it magnificent place.
We went to see cars, too. Passenger cars, in car shops. They were quite costly – but not as expensive as in Finland. Before we left, Kaisu had said not to buy clunkers, we have a yard full of them. I didn’t listen to her, a wise woman.
The car was Daimler-Benz 280 with Siemens 450 in the trunk. 6-cylinder petrol engine in the front, automatic transmission.
Gear, gas and go. Gas, Inspector Palmu. Antique. For three days we walked past it. In fourth day, I bought it. I’m sorry, Kaisu. I couldn’t help myself.
And I should be able to advise you. I don’t have it to advise anyone. First, we went to the registration office and to customs and to what-it-was-again. There we were directed from the car shop.
They directed us back to the car shop. It needs to be inspected and insurance is needed for transfer plates, they said. The car shop took the car to ride and came 20 minutes after with the inspected car. Then the insurance. That we would get from Mercedes shop 3 km away, on top of the hill. And so, we walked.
We were luckier this time. A madam was on the way out, but yet made the insurance for us. Limburg – Rostock, 15 days. Shorter than that reportedly couldn’t be made.
Now we walked down the hill. The what-it-was-again office was closed for that day. Well, we had more than enough time. Tomorrow it is.
The next morning, we got a piece of paper from customs where we paid 44€ for some fee and then we went to request the register badges which cost 30€. Then we took a ticket from a take-a-number system like in bank and went to a room where our number had lit. There a lady made entries about a passport and the car and told us to wait until we were called by name. A customs officer who had first served us got the documents but didn’t give them to us because car was in the shop. Hannu said that car didn’t have register badges. The man gave us the badges but not the documents, saying that we had to bring car for inspection. We went to get the car. When it was closing time, the customs officer come outside with us. He checked vehicle identification number, gave the documents and goodbyes. Simple.
On Friday, 8th November 2002, the truck was repaired. After difficulties, we got finally to leave at 4 p.m. local time. Hannu left to load to Frankfurt, then to Hannover and in the morning to Bremen.
I, a happy man (thus far), drove on the road no. 3 towards Köln, from where I head on the road no. 1 to Bremen, Hannover, Lübeck and from there to Rostock.
Well, a man plans this and that, but Lord decides what happens and what doesn’t. It started pouring. Like windows of Heaven had opened. But there was no need to worry. The car was warm, windshield wipers worked, I drove a center lane to pass a long truck queue. Then and there, the car just died. At first a truck drove in same speed as me and then I just started to get left behind. I turned hazard lights on and when I saw the trailer’s behind, I immediately shifted to a right lane and then to right shoulder. Trucks drove so close and fast past that the car just swung. I didn’t dare to open the driver’s door and instead tried to go outside from the other side. It was quite cramped, but as a slender lad I found my way out.
I opened the trunk, there’s the big warning triangle in it. It was beginning to get dark, too. I opened the hood. The motor hadn’t been fallen nor stolen. I hadn’t really thought so either. In Germany there’s ATCF’s (The Automobile and Touring Club of Finland) sister or brother organization ADAC. Germans will surely ask if I’m a member. I didn’t even need to show a card, even though it was with me. In an hour a car of ADAC was there. I was told that there was nothing else to do but to call a tow truck. Good enough.
I didn’t feel like staying in the rain in the dark. It started to get chilly, too. Friendliness warmed the heart, but it doesn’t match up to a good sweater. A pal called to Kolbenz’ Veho and informed there that a fuel pump was kaput, new one was needed. Yeah, right. 22 euros for 5 litres of petrol and nothing else. Thanks Adolf or whatever his name was again?
For an hour I feared that someone would pump a little from the back corner. Then we would soar high. But no worries, here comes towing firm Jörg Bach. I wonder if he can compose? I don’t know, but at least he could drive. Hastingly we drove through Koblenz. I tried to see out the window where we were going, so I could make it back at same night. Or so I thought in that moment, at the Koblenz-Nord crossing to the road 9. Past the Mercedes truck repair shop, over the Mosel river (along the bridge), under the railway, around the block and there it was, the repair shop. The car down and to the reception.
The fuel pump aka KRAFTSTOFFPUMPE wasn’t found that day, but on Monday 12 o’clock the car would have been fixed. I called Hannu for ninth time that night and we decided that I would go by train to Bremen in the morning. There would be Hannu’s last stop.
Some gentleman, a customer or an overseer took me to the train station, which was actually quite close. We chit chatted all the way something, but he didn’t naturally learn Finnish in such short time. We arrived to the station. There was 16 platforms and a ski tunnel to each. I wondered if Rannila had made them. They were made of sheet metal, in any case.
There were big hotels around the block, many of them. I called to Hannu and said that I would surely find an accommodation from there and if I wouldn’t, I would call again. I tried to go to Hotell Hottens Taufe. A porter looked down his nose and said it was full. He gestured me out and good that he did, it was probably expensive place anyway. The porter was so portly, too. I went out and saw that the next hotel was in the same company.
I went to the other side of the street, luckily that. There was a hotel with a door same size as home’s one. The name was Garni Reinhard. Even the reception was cozy. A madam probably owned the whole place. There were pictures of grandchildren on shelves and tables. She wrote with a pen 8/11-11/11 135,- €. Ok. I put money on the table and I got a key and a receipt. There wasn’t food today, but in the morning 7-10 a.m. was breakfast and on Sunday 8-10 a.m. Ok, ok. I took my things to the room. The tidy room. 23 channels in television. Shower and bed.
I went out to eat. The hostess waved her hand when I was on the street, like saying not to stay out too late. That gave me good mood. I was just going to get something to eat. There was a restaurant five steps away where read “Cuban week”. I went inside. I didn’t see any Gastro there, but I got my stomach full. Samba and rumba played from the record and a waiter wasn’t some Aryan. I didn’t mind that at all. I was tired. Television stayed on the whole night. Thankfully I had medicines for two weeks. Good day. I was alive, at least.
The next day I bought a map and bread and sausage and underpants, all if I happen to need them. Koblenz was at crossing of two great rivers. Mosel and Rhine. Famous rivers both of them. I had seen both of them individually long way from there. I thought that I could find my way in the city where was two rivers and a railway, but somehow I had passed the train station and the hotel. Well, I didn’t really bother to look the map. I walked back along the same street. Over there church bells rang and over there was the railway, so the hotel had to be somewhere here too. There it was, I had missed one street. Sunday passed lying around and and watching tv. There came program about Finland, too. About some architect, who had designed a wooden church in Hamburg. Then a woman sang “jo Karjalan kunnailla lehtii puu.”
In the Monday morning I was up early. I packed my things several times and looked under the bed to make sure nothing was left behind. Nothing there. Ten o’clock I said goodbye to Madam and left. Daimler-Benz company was found easily, I had to talk for long time Finnish before they understood that I had come to get my car back. When German says 12 o’clock he doesn’t give it before even though it’s ready. They gave me some coffee and even one little cookie. Thanks a lot. Five minutes past twelve came a secretary who shouted Penttilä, Penttilä. I went to the cash. 300, – € to them and keys to me. Tys, Tys, they shouted to me. Tys, Tys, I said back. There my car awaited me. I said to it that it will come to Finland with me, to a good family in Alajärvi. If it behaved. Otherwise I would abandon it in Germany and it will never see the world again. Since then it has behaved itself.
I found easily my way out of the city. I could have driven right way to Köln and from there to the road 1, but I went same way where I came from, the road 3. You got to Köln that way too, and then from there the road 1 to Hamborg.
It rained without cease, and it started to get dark. I was tired of raining and darkness. I drove to a gas station in Mûnster and watered the horse and how it drank. I remembered an old saying: “A calf, which drinks, lives.” I suppose it’s true.
Vesa called and asked where I am. He himself was planning to spend a night at Shell before Bremen, and told that weather was dry there. I promised to come to visit. After driving 20 km the weather become drier and driving became enjoyable again. I found Vesa where he should have been. We went to eat and then to sleep.
Vesa continued his trip 5 o’clock and I headed to Hamburg. It was still early morning and I drove without stopping right past it. From Lübeck to Rostock. I was there about 10 a.m.
A long, boring day in Rostock. A Superfast came to the port at 6 p.m. and we drove in shortly before 8 p.m.
There was some Scot in the cabin. I went to ask for another cabin. After some grumbling, I got a cabin opposite it and got to be alone in peace.
We arrived to Hanko 5 p.m. The weather had been nice, but wasn’t anymore. It had snowed and tires had no studs. We went to customs. There was 70 Russians and 20 Finns. There was no take-a-number system. I have been in line before and knew how Russians worked. They are masters of queuing. I sat at the end of the table and filled Hanko-Alajärvi-Vaasa transfer permit application in peace. I said to Finns to wait patiently 2 hours, we would be much closer to the desk then. They laughed it off as a joke, but not after 2 hours had passed. There wasn’t any Russians anymore, but 10 Finns was left. There had been even a little fight and peace came only after a customs officer threatened to call it a day.
I was home in the morning. During the day Heinola inspected the car (import inspection). I took documents to customs house in Vaasa the next day.
After 2-3 weeks a car tax file would come in mail.
What we learned from this. Nothing. What advice can I give. Nothing.
Listen what your wife tells you.
Don’t listen the tempter.
Taisto
Taisto Penttilä Oy 