Chairman Bryan’s regular mode of transport is a venerable East German 2-Stroke 1973 Trabant, which was barn-stored for sixteen years before being purchased by Bryan for £1.50p! “Hermann” as he is affectionately known, has recently had to undergo an extensive M.O.T. but is now climbing the steepest of hills around Bath (there are some seven), once again, with ease.
So when the following article appeared in a recent edition of the Braunschweiger Zeitung, it cried out to be translated.
“Wir sollten es nicht so zumüllen.“
My car is my castle
“We shouldn’t just get it crushed.”
Susanne Jasper drives a rubbish tip on four wheels.
When you have a child the good intentions are innumerable. Now, it may sound a bit silly, but we also resolved that our car shouldn’t be transformed into a moving biscuit tin. We thought it just had to be possible to survive a car journey without constant munching, but on the first four hour trip to Granny in Remscheid we soon learnt our lesson. That was a long time ago and since then we have never gone back to our original intention. Anyone who harbours malicious thoughts about us could call our car a rubbish tip on wheels. Well-meaning people would be pleased to agree that, if we were stranded in our car because of a sudden landslide or other vagaries of nature, we wouldn’t go hungry. If we swept up all the crumbs we could use them for a loaf of bread, in the gaps between the seats we keep on finding an unexpected bar of chocolate, and bottles of water roll about in the boot. Our car is like a home. “My car is my castle.” More or less. That’s where you can put your feet up on the steering wheel and relax between appointments. And when your hand slips into the space under the handbrake I guarantee that your fingers will find a left over bear from a long gone packet of Gummibärchen. And we owe all that to our children! When I was recently talking to the youngest one about whether it was time for a new car, he said: “I only want to ask one thing: we shouldn’t just get it crushed.” At least he didn’t say “you”.
March 9, 2014
The little car has become quite a star due to its rarity and age – 41 years – and, to a degree, the quaint phut-phut of its 586cc 2-stroke engine. ‘Hermann’s’ engine is actually that of a motorcycle; a twin-pot unit similar to a Polish Jawa.
Hermann now carries transfers for The Museum of Bath at Work, a kind of mobile billboard.
His fame was even known about by a group of about 32 farmers from Braunschweig, visiting Bath in July, 2013, when during a Civic Reception (I deputised as Past Mayor) two of these farmers stated that they had actually read the story of my Trabant, in the Braunschweiger Zeitung & were utterly amazed to be informed that Hermann was parked outside the Guildhall. Several very excitedly then went to the car park to see him for themselves.