Peugeot

Last Joust in Germany

March 20, 2014 by Matt Blyth

Full confession, first. I called them Freedom Fries. At West Point, we giggled at the Maginot Line’s bureaucracy-bred haplessness. I too-often insert an ungainly Honnhh Honnnhhh Honnnnhhhh when a social situation calls for a Frenchman’s laugh [c’mon – don’t we all encounter such scenarios?]. But that’s all a form of betrayal, as our Peugeot 205 GTI was a French jewel among the the myriad, multi-cultured automotive gems that sparkled throughout our three year tour in Germany. I’ll even go on record as naming it as our all-time favorite car. Thus, whatever we may think we think of the French, my opinion shall forever hold a very large asterisk because of our excellent Peugeot period.

The gem’s cave was our nearby Peugeot-Talbot dealer in Bremen-Lesum, Autohaus Manfred Haensch. Looking back, Herr Haensch’s sometimes-gruff countenance may have reflected how many, uh, berets he wore. He sold us the car, then handled all of the tax-exempt paperwork. He was the service advisor and cashier, and probably even did some wrenching. It all added up to multi-tasking, before such was invented. And blessedly, Googling the dealership reveals a still-active store, giving hope that a small dealer can still exist in today’s increasingly mega-dealer world.

Autobahn 27: Seven Fables for Six More Weeks of Winter

February 2, 2014 by Matt Blyth

The title implies a series. And a series can imply greatness, say, when it involves Homer (the Greek or the Simpson), Stephen King, or DTM. In certain portions of York County, PA, the title could conjure up the storied Seven Gates of Hell, behind which lurked, predictably, an evil insane asylum. The myth has been proven false, but that didn’t keep York down too long, as our infamous Intelligent Design scrap rode the charts the whole way to the U.S. Supreme Court.

Where does the Elfer enter this tale? Well, it doesn’t. First off, I didn’t buy the Elfer as garage royalty. But between a heavy workload and the Polar Vortex’s fluffy fallout, I haven’t driven the car since early December. Beyond being borderline criminal, that leaves nothing worthy of posting. After all, a Porsche not in motion still holds beauty, but musings about indulgent haunches belong in other blogs, perhaps of the agrarian variety.

The solution: Return to the memory banks, all the way to – you got it – my three years in Germany! Bremen isn’t a customary tourist destination for Americans, but its blessed proximity to both Autobahn 1 and the playground known as Autobahn 27 allowed me to assemble a bevy of memorable tomes. So please feel free to ride on, unless the Gates of Hell reference (hey, they even named a craft beer after it!) wasn’t too wretched.

Installments (click on photo or title to read each):

Part 1: Nostalgia, Autobahn Style (a/k/a Highway Song?)

Part 2: French Fog

Part 3: Stoic Trees

Part 4: 16V vs. 16V … Was Moore the Merrier?

Part 5: Temperature Taming

Part 6: Second to last Tango on Autobahn 27

Part 7: Last Joust in Germany