Tears and freakouts
Musician Timothy Lush, 31, from the band Kytes: Lush got his driving license after graduating from high school in 2012. But he didn’t really warm up to combustion engines; he signed up for driving school out of peer pressure and a sense of duty. “And for grandma, who once gave me 100 euros for my driver’s license,” he says. “But I never really felt it.” He was hardly ever fully focused, he needed a lot of driving lessons, but he had a nice driving instructor who encouraged him to finally take the driving test. “It was winter and it had snowed,” says Lush. When he crossed a solid line because he didn’t see it, it was over. “What was going on here? You can go back straight away,” the driving examiner said and immediately stopped the test. “Then I had a freak out,” says Lush. While he was still in the car, he started crying, called the driving examiner an asshole and got out instead of turning the car back. “I made a drama and didn’t dare to contact my driving instructor for three months because of my emotional scene,” he says. Finally, he took driving lessons again, paid another 500 euros and got his driver’s license on the second attempt. Without tears, but with sweat. “I was so excited that everything was sweating. My back, my face, my hands.”
Lilly Krug.
(Photo: Manfred Baumann/oh)
Two different driving schools
Lilly Krug, 22, student and actress: During an intensive course, Lilly Krug and her best friend took the compulsory theory and driving lessons within two weeks. But it didn’t end with her driver’s license because the then 17-year-old didn’t take the driving test. “When driving accompanied, I would have had to indicate two people,” she says. In Germany, only adults are allowed to drive alone. “I didn’t know who could accompany me regularly and I was also too busy with my high school diploma,” she says. At 18 she took the driving test and was successful the second time. But it won’t be her last driving test. “Being able to drive gave me a feeling of freedom,” she says. But in Munich she still traveled more by bike and on the subway. Things are different now in California. Krug studies theater and psychology in Los Angeles. “You can’t get far in LA without a car. There’s hardly any public transportation,” says Krug. It’s a 45 minute drive to the university. The streets are bigger, the traffic lights stay yellow longer, and when they are red, you are allowed to turn right. Krug learns this at an American driving school, because if you want to drive permanently in Los Angeles, you need a California driver’s license. Her third driving test was no problem with four years of experience. “It was just the paperwork that almost threw me off track,” says Krug.
Daniel Bacon.
(Photo: private)
“What are you doing there?”
Daniel Speck, author of “Bella Germania”, in which Isetta plays a role: “I’ve been a big car fan since I was a child,” says Daniel Speck, “and I couldn’t wait to get my driver’s license.” Long before his 18th birthday, he made a name for himself by carrying out the Munich weekly paper saved up the money for this in Obermenzing. When the time finally came, he only took the minimum number of driving lessons and wanted to take the test straight away. He still remembers that he was sitting in a blue Mitsubishi Pajero, with the driving instructor next to him in the front and the examiner in the back. He was supposed to stop at an intersection; the road was slightly uphill. He pulled the handbrake, “that was still a real manual move back then” – and when he let go again to continue driving, the car rolled backwards. Then a fist slammed on the roof and a woman scolded: “You’re stupid, what are you doing?” She had wanted to cross the street with her stroller behind them. “I thought: That’s it,” says Speck. But his driving instructor saved the situation by scolding back: “Yeah, what a cow, why does she have to cross the street right there? Pedestrians are getting stupider and stupider.” And the examiner? Signed the document, handed it to Speck and said: Good luck. “I soon bought my first car, an old R4. That put me in a moral dilemma, because in the school newspaper I was upset about environmental sinners, dying forests, acid rain, and so on, those were the topics 1980s. In the summer after graduating high school, we drove with our friends in two cars over the Alps and to Tuscany. That’s where my love for Italian cars began.”
Bettina Gundler.
(Photo: Florian Peljak)
“That was the turning point in my young life!”
Bettina Gundler, head of the traffic center of the German Museum on Theresienhöhe: “I grew up in a village near Braunschweig, and for me the driving license meant the promise of finally being able to move freely as a young woman,” says Bettina Gundler. She has no particular memory of the driving lessons, only that the driving instructor was very humorless. But her father had practiced with her beforehand, so she felt pretty confident. During the practical test, she was afraid of starting on hills, but it worked. “In the 1970s there wasn’t nearly as much traffic as there is today and there weren’t as many regulations.” Gundler’s father worked at VW, and her parents gave her a driver’s license for her 18th birthday and then soon an orange Beetle. “That was the turning point in my young life! From then on I drove to school in Braunschweig, no longer had to get up at a quarter to six to catch the bus and could visit my friends at any time. After graduating from high school we drove with two beetles and seven friends to Portugal. The first big trip was an adventure.” Today Bettina Gundler is surrounded by many beautiful old cars in her museum.
Bruno Jonas.
(Photo: Stephan Rumpf)
Park? In the one-way street, downhill, on the left side
Bruno Jonas, author and cabaret artist: “When I got into the driving school car, I could already drive. That was because in 1969, when I got my driving license, I had already had to regularly pick up my father from the pub for some time.” He was playing skat in the “Rose” once a week and always said to his son: “Pick me up at eleven.” Back then, there wasn’t that much going on on the streets in Passau, especially in the evenings. “And I had already practiced in a large parking lot anyway. At the driving school I got in and drove off.” The driving instructor just said: “You can drive.” Above all, Jonas wanted to know when he could take the exam. “We have to drive for a few hours,” was the answer. “During the test, I was apparently a little too confident. In any case, the examiner then teased me a bit and ended up looking for a particularly difficult place to park: a one-way street, downhill, on the left side. But what the heck I say it worked the first time.”