The rise and fall of the Peugeot 404. It might not have been a 404, that’s what my
memory is, er, wait, I’m getting a new image, it’s a 504. Yep definitely a 504. My dad bought it while on assignment in
Germany so it was probably a 1972, brand new.
Some weird Air Force perk where you buy it through the Canadian PX and
it is shipped to your address in Germany.
As a young teenager I had zero interest in cars. Probably as a result of living on base in
Germany I don’t know. Cars and
motorcycles were never much my thing anyway.
If it wasn’t rock and roll, alcohol, going to movies, thinking about
kissing princesses or reading books I wasn’t interested. But my dad seemed to be excited about this
particular model and I admit it was a good looking car. It had a midnight blue finish so that may be
why to this day my cars almost always have the same paint job. I don’t recall too much about this auto
(pronounced OW-TOE in German) but I have a couple recollections that I will
share.
When I was sixteen I had my first real psychotic break, ha
ha, you knew it would somehow get around to being about me. So soon though? But it was true, I had a psychotic break and
freaked my parents out. They were just
about done with me anyway as their kid as I was so far gone emotionally and
spiritually. I was caught up in a wicked
drug habit, (no needles!), and my life had no room for parents hassling me. Hassling me included looking at me, talking to
me, talking at me anything at me. One
day though, playing the role of “normal” son I broke down and was out for the
entire day. Sobbing, snot sobbing,
shivering, groaning and just about anything unusual that could have happened
managed to happen that day. Other
symptoms were that parts of my body were unresponsive
to touch so you could literally stick a needle in my calf and I wouldn’t feel a
thing. My parents had no idea what to do
or who to call so they did the normal right thing and called the flight
surgeon. With what they told him I
somehow had an appointment made to the major hospital in Germany for US citizens
based in Wiesbaden, a 2 ½ hour drive from home.
Trust me, the details are sketchy but I know I had to go there for 2
weeks for testing.
A couple of days later we pulled out of the driveway in the brand new Peugeot,
my dad and I and we started to drive to the appointment in Wiesbaden . I vaguely
remember laying my head against the passenger window watching the odd foreign
landscape whizz by with really no other thoughts on board. Then I heard it. We were on the Autobahn which every American
coming or
wanting to come to Germany talks about wanting to drive on because it
has no speed limit. We settled in the
next to the fast lane at a comfortable 95 miles per hours or because we’re in
Germany, 152 kilometers per hour. Actually if you were a local it was called
152 klicks, that was the cool way to say it.
If you said kilometers you were fresh off the plane or just plain
square. My dad called it klicks. Anyway it was considered a safe cruising
speed for the Autobahn. 152 klicks and I
heard a whine coming from somewhere.
Actually it sounded like a controlled roar.
BoorrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrRRR.
I heard it but I didn’t see it. I
looked at my dad and he checked the rear view mirror as he was aware of the
noise too. Good on two fronts, 1, I wasn’t
“hearing things” and 2, he was just as curious.
That car ride had somehow taken us out of the loop of dad and son. We were just 2 guys cruising at 95, talking
about little things, no cornering me or the other way around. I remember chuckling at some of his jokes and
it was nice. My mind was so sore and it
was a balm to know I could enjoy being a son without any drama. Even if only for the moments it took to drive
250 klicks to some hospital. I kept
turning my head to follow the sound, where was it coming from? Was it an aircraft? There was nothing to see. It was scary exciting because the more I
looked the louder it got. Dad was
getting edgy until he pointed over his left shoulder. He spotted it first. It was a speck that was turning into a car
coming from behind us in the fast lane.
Remember, we were cruising at 152 klicks and this amazing machine of a
car was approaching like a crazed zephyr.
BLAM it shot past us like a bullet and disappeared over the horizon in
seconds. We saw enough to know it was a
Mercedes Benz sports car and it was brown.
Any other details and sorry, no luck as the speed it blew by us was
fucking remarkable. Remember earlier
when I said I didn’t have any interest in cars?
Well a little baby was born that afternoon seeing that controlled fury
flying like a banshee out of nowhere and into nowhere. We were both kind of shocked that we
witnessed something so unthinkable. It was
like we were standing still the way that car blasted past. You may see cars on a racetrack or on TV but
to witness it from 3 feet away is a power onto its
own. I forgot for a minute where we were heading
and even when catching up with that fact I was still strangely happy. It was like we were in a different world for
that moment and all the rules were different.
My dad, the jet pilot, maybe having his thoughts of his own airborne
speeds imagining them on the ground. I just
couldn’t bear to think what would happen if the guy hit a pothole. It really rocked my world as up to then,
things were always a certain way. Rules
were meant to be broken, yeah, but obliterated?
Wow. I thought that maybe my
brain had rocked its speed limit too that day it broke. I didn’t see the mental limit signs and had
made up my own rules. I smashed the law
that day and it was roaring, unbelievable, unseeing and unknowing. I didn't know that I was
on my way too many future potholes at far greater speeds.
But if I dreamt of myself as a Mercedes Benz sports car I just didn’t think I would
have the capacity to care.
1.
I’m
grateful that that Peugeot was built for safety because future accidents
happened that only that car could have saved us.
2.
I’m grateful that today I respect the speed
limits, in reality and emotionally.
3.
I’m grateful that I had those precious moments
with my dad not hating him, just being me and him.
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