Chapter 8: Herman Et Al

[1958 VW bus goes by the name “Herman” and he’s German]

Better Looking Version Of Lee Van Cleef

Ron adopted me; that’s what it felt like. You’d have to know him to understand my meaning. He badgered me about the trip to Munich, me with all my fears of adventure in the new land. He wasn’t going to take “No” for an answer and so we went.

We had 12 hours to spare and I had no idea how long the trip might be, how long he would stay, etc., etc. Turns out Munich was 90 kilometers away and converted to miles that’s only 55.9234 to be exact.

As a kid my family drove a lot of miles - a lot, out in the uninhabited west. 55 miles was a jaunt, a short drive. And it was Autobahn all the way to Munich like a super highway that Maseratis could wind out on, no speed limit actually. Ron’s VW bus had a full 30 horsepower so we stayed far to right in the wide way that had no lane separation lines visible for much of the time. We traveled up and down the low hills and I was getting to see Germany wide open as not a tourist but a new resident of sorts.

I figured he wanted to talk to me about Hanna but I didn’t bring it up. He didn’t either. Instead he started telling me about his German girl friend, Christa, the reason he was able to locate and buy the bus he named “Herman”. Obviously he loved Herman but he also obviously loved her. And he wasn’t shy about telling me about his love making which seemed dreamy for an American soldier doing what hardly any other GI’s could do, not only get to know and be liked by Germans in Nurnberg but have a local regular sex partner too.

He wanted me to meet her and later I would. She was really special, seemed shy but was beautiful in all regards.

He acquired Herman through family members of hers, the bus having been used in the construction business to haul workers around. Ron had put a lot of work into it, eventually a new engine. It was clean and, in good shape, about 10 years old, a ‘58’.

[1958 VW bus so well traveled]

He was a surfer back in southern California and the bus was a surfer’s ideal of the right car for the right purpose. He made it look like that. It was really cute. Everything about him, attitude, personality, car reminded of the popular guy on campus.

Munich arrived in front of us, a bit of a sprawling large city.

Mr. Ron knew his way around. His intention was to take me directly to a place that would in time become my favorite. It was the ancient Hofbrau Haus bier court, the large and very old vintage building full of long tables with benches, the gathering place. Famous bier in liter clay mugs, it cost 1 Mark, $ .25 with the money exchange at that time. Imagine, roughly a quart of bier for $ .25 cents, famous world class bier that never gave you a headache.

When arriving he quickly drove two wheels up on the sidewalk leaving enough room for pedestrians and right in front of the main entrance. He acted like he owned the place and I would learn how parking two wheels up on the sidewalk was routine driving in Europe.

When walking with Ron anywhere it was a challenge of speed. He was about six foot three inches with long legs and his demeanor was to charge ahead wherever, “Aus, raus, wir gehen” he went. His in charge air precluded him and when he entered the Hofbrau he somewhat raced in, stopped suddenly to carefully peruse the place and then decided where he would sit regardless of who already sat at that particular table. He wanted to talk politics, philosophy, girls.