My first experience of driving on Germany’s iconic Autobahn was as a learner driver, almost twelve years ago. Despite my misgivings, and a catalogue of well-worn excuses, my employer had organised lessons with a local Fahrschule; one minute the good news was being broken to me, the next, I was being frog marched to a nondescript office, in a part of town I didn’t recognise, to begin the long and expensive process of learning to drive. Not only would my instruction begin in that rather dingy building, it would remain there for nearly two and a half months. Due to the laws surrounding learner drivers in Germany, I was required to complete over ten theory lessons before I was even allowed to sit behind the wheel of a car. Twice a week, I attended lessons held in that small stuffy office, which was only one of the many downsides of learning to drive here. I was nearly a decade older than any of the other learners in my group, and having to sit surrounded by 17 year old high-schoolers was a deeply chastening experience. Unsurprisingly, we didn’t have a lot in common - after all, I had long ago given up drenching myself in Lynx Africa, but I knew I was a figure of fun among the class. The furtive glances and occasional giggles were hard not to notice. Luckily, or possibly unluckily, my German was so poor I neither fully understood the wisecracks aimed at me, nor much of the actual theory I was there to learn.

Thankfully I had the greatest driving instructor in the world. A giant of a man, with hands the size of boulders, who frequently laughed loudly through an unkempt but very impressive beard. He would walk me out of every lesson and give me an abridged version of the incomprehensible hour I had just sat through. He would then direct me to websites so that I could actually work out what I was supposed to be learning. He knew I was nervous about driving, even without the obvious language barrier. He would never lose his temper, but would calmly admonish me when I screwed things up, and I would often screw things up.

After many weeks under his burly wing, I had grown in confidence and ability, and I wasn’t massively surprised, when I got into the car one evening, to be informed that today was the day - today, I would become, as he put it, a “real German”. I was finally being allowed to place my wheels on the hallowed ground of the Autobahn. I felt excited, but I was also acutely aware that my hands had begun to sweat the way they always do when my nerves get the better of me. We drove towards the slip road of the Autobahn, and as we got closer, he turned to me and bellowed “You need to accelerate, my friend!”. This was my introduction to the real world of German driving.

To drive on the Autobahn, you have to get very comfortable with speed, not just yours, but everyone else’s too. Through those weeks of Autobahn driving, I was given some of the most useful advice that I still use today: Don’t look at the car in front all the time, look further in the distance for what the traffic is doing, use the meter markers next to the road to gauge distance, change lanes early rather than late, don’t hesitate, predict who on the road might make a rash decision, and most importantly, assume everyone around you is an idiot. These rules, I can say without a trace of hyperbole, have kept me alive driving in Germany.

Obviously the Autobahn is world famous for not having speed limits, but the major challenge of driving on it isn’t just the speed of the vehicles, but the speed at which things can happen. One minute, you’re blasting down the road at 170 kmh, and then suddenly there’s a massive traffic jam. Other times, you’ll check your rearview mirror and see nothing, the next minute there’s a car centimetres away from you, the driver flashing their lights to make you move out the way. Sometimes people will indicate, sometimes they won’t, and when you’re moving at high speed, you need to recognise the signs that someone is going to make a rash decision. In those moments, I can hear my driving instructor’s most sage advice: “Remember, we’re surrounded by idiots, Nikolas!”

His words still ring true today. Despite Germany’s reputation for rule following, the Autobahn seems to be the exception to the idea of the sensible, law-abiding German. There are rules, even speed limits, on some sections of road, but more often than not, these are treated as mere recommendations. Along with a frequent breaking of these rules, the general quality of driving leaves a lot to be desired. I’ve sat through many conversations with people complaining about the Swiss, the Austrians, the Italians, or the hated Dutch caravans that appear during the summer holidays, but by far the worst drivers are the Germans. It’s not that they necessarily intend to put people in danger, but they will often break those golden rules given to me by my instructor. People will frequently ignore proper distance, which, at high speed, can be fatal. They make late manoeuvres, pulling out at the last minute, forcing the cars behind to slam on their brakes. They hesitate, change lanes without looking, and worst of all, become impatient very quickly.

Naturally, Germans take umbrage whenever I share my opinion of the general quality of drivers here. No one wants some British bloke waxing lyrical about their nation's bad habits. However, the general reaction to my criticisms pales in comparison to the reaction I get when the topic of speed limits comes up. Even the most mild mannered German will suddenly become a snarling beast when it’s suggested that having a standard speed limit of 130 kmh might be a good idea. Whether the argument concerns safety, or the benefits of reducing pollution or preventing the oncoming climate catastroph; it doesn’t matter, many have already decided it’s their right to drive at 300 kmh. It’s no surprise that commentators here make the comparison with American gun owners. We might not quite be at the Charlton Heston “cold dead hands” moment, but we’re not far off.

Personally I think introducing speed limits would improve the driving experience in Germany. Roads would be safer, we’d burn less fuel, and we’d all probably save a bit of money to boot. I’m aware this isn’t a popular opinion, and frankly I too love driving fast, but ultimately, the arguments for far outweigh the arguments against. Nevertheless, introducing a general speed limit will be no easy process, and it could well open serious societal divisions. What that might mean for Germany is anyone's guess.

Proofreader: @ScandiTina

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