A drive to Denmark

It’s an incomparable feeling sitting alone in a car on an endless highway, smoking a cigarette and hearing the unremitting rattling of the engine in the back of my mind. It’s about two o’clock in the morning, the signs say something about 200km to Magdeburg, a checkpoint like any other on the way, and I’m driving with 90km per hour. Noises are too loud to turn on the radio, so my only entertainments are my thoughts and the trucks which occur occasionally in front or back of me. I can overtake them, or let them overtake but that’s all, there is no chance in getting rid of them. They are predominant on the highway and you have to play their rules when you’re driving at same speed.

I passed Prague three hours ago, past the dark peaks of the Erzgebirge, which were a torture for the 82er Benz bus, and thankfully reached Dresden, which marked the first third of the route. At the fuel station in Dresden an odd feeling of freedom overcame me and I immediately had to buy me a pack of cigarettes even though I stopped smoking a month ago. I wanted to expand this moment, had the idea of sitting on top of the bus, drinking beer, playing guitar at 2° Celsius in the middle of the night somewhere far away from anyone I know. I doubted till that point that I would reach my destination without incidents but grew confident from there on. What could possibly happen? This machine would drive me to any place I want and my only enemy was the fuel, which I needed a lot of.

Time was on my side. I did not even begin to bother how long it will take me to get to Denmark. I knew when I reach Magdeburg I will read a sign which says 150km to Hannover and there I have about 150km to Hamburg and then Flensburg and so on. The way truly was the goal and there was no turning back any more. It would have made no sense. There is a reason for things to happen, for thoughts and ideas which have to be realised. I knew that this trip was an economic disaster but should I really care about money? What would I have done with those 350 Euro I spend for fuel getting there and back else than doing something different not driving to Denmark?

To be honest, I had a few concerns about time, time and brain functions, but it was more in that way that I didn’t trust them anymore. Passing Magdeburg, I was driving for about nine or ten hours, thinking about the moment I started in Vienna, which could have been one hour ago. I couldn’t remember what I thought, felt or did all the time, else then sitting behind the steering wheel and pressing the gas pedal. It’s strange with what minimum input the consciousness can work without falling into unconscious. It would have made no difference and maybe I have been unconscious in a certain way for a long time.

The nasty thing about driving to Denmark is that you think you’re almost done when you reach Flensburg. I mean, it’s true that you are close to Denmark but the place you want to go in there matters a lot. Denmark isn’t that small, in fact its north-south extent is something about 330km or more. So when you reach the border, it could take you another three hours to reach your goal. Another factor is wind, which is strong and commonly wet and forces you to more concentration to hold your car on track. Streets are narrow, straight and long with a lot of cosy people on it you cannot overtake with a 82er Benz.

Well, my bad luck was, that I happened to get there in the evening and after about 20 hours’ driving I felt a little bit consumed. It was raining and the oncoming trucks dazzled me with their strong lights. It was as well the moment when Rosinante, my bus, decided to make me one last present, and throw the fuse of the wiper, about 40km before my destination. I swore to god. It took me almost an hour and a half time to fix the problem and finally reaching Ringkobing. I was seriously sick by that time but very glad. One of the next nicer days I took my friend and drove to the coast to take that picture.