Driving the Trabant, East Germany's terrible car that will never die

German engineers can take credit for some of the best cars ever created. I was about to drive one of their worst. In fact, so wretchedly bad is the homely East German-made Trabant that one has to wonder if actual Teutonic engineers could possibly have been involved in its creation.

Just a few blocks from storied Checkpoint Charlie, where the Allied powers controlled entry and egress into East Berlin, sits a parking lot stuffed with small two-door, four-seat vehicles painted in an puzzling variety of colors. Shocking pink and matte black. Leopard spots and candy cane stripes. This is Trabi World, where for between $50 and $110 you get to pilot your own Trabant around this sprawling and vibrant European city.

As a car guy, driving any vehicle has an inherent appeal, doubly so when it helps you experience a foreign place with the familiarity of a local motorist. How bad could this be?

I begin to have my suspicions when members of our “safari” — a half-dozen cars that would be following our Trabi World leader around town — began to circulate rumors-as-fact ranging from “I heard it’s actually made out of hard cardboard” and “The gas tanks sits over the two-stroke engine.” The first is false. The second is frighteningly true.

It becomes quickly apparent that a sense of humor and patience are as important to this two-hour cruise as having a license. Our guide displays both: “Your cars each have a radio where I can talk to you, but you can’t talk to me, very East German style.” And within minutes of heading out into traffic single file, the end of our Trabi conga line gets blocked in traffic and we all just pull over to wait for them to catch up.

I’ve driven any number of classic old cars that require skill and sensitivity to motivate. But nothing quite prepared me for life with Trabi. Hop in a humble Mini Cooper after a Trabant and you feel like you’ve stepped into a Rolls-Royce Wraith.

First off, while it isn’t made of cardboard, it is made out of resin mixed with cotton. You don’t want to get into an accident. Second, the gauges and limited toy-like switchgear on the car (our guide had reached into my car and flipped the defroster rocker and said, “Turbo!” and then laughed like a maniac) are either inadequate or don’t work. Third, and most annoyingly throughout the drive, its blinker stalk isn’t designed to return to center after each turn. I get a number of annoyed looks from other drivers miming the turn signal flick.

And the more gnawing for last. To say that pick-up from its two-cylinder, 26-hp engine is nil is truly an understatement. Picture sitting on a riding mower and hitting the gas as you head into a head-high field of wheat. Never in her life has my wife actually said to me, “Please speed up,” but thanks to Trabi I actually heard that rare plea a number of times.