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Dreams of Speed
My 50th day in custody. That’s seven weeks and one day, or 1,200 hours, that I’ve been locked up. Because of a piece of paper and because I wanted to travel to the West on the Reichsbahn.
At least it was my own decision. The public prosecutor took the bait (see Friday, January 27). And solicitor Vogel wants to take care of me (see Thursday, February 2).
If things continue at this pace, I will have plenty of opportunity to reflect on the old days. 1981 was one of my fastest years.
How To Diaries is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
It didn’t take long before the 45 km/h that my SR2 could manage was far too slow for me. With a higher carburettor needle, more air supply and a polished manifold, I managed to tune it up to 50.
During the summer holidays, I went to a “work camp” to earn the money I needed for a faster moped. Unfortunately, they sent me home after two weeks for disciplinary reasons.
The wages weren’t enough to buy the used Jawa Mustang I had spotted in the classifieds section of a newspaper. My only hope was that this “Indianerfahrrad” (local pun as Indian Bicycle) had no fans among connoisseurs. That way, hopefully, it wouldn’t find a buyer anytime soon.
It was supposed to cost 300 marks. I was just under 100 marks short. Grandma Frieda couldn’t bear to see me in such misery and helped me out.
Within a few days, I was the proud owner of a bright red “Jawa 50 Type 23 Mustang”, as the moped was called in full.
It managed 60 “Klamotten” (clothes, local slang for speed in km/h). Now I could commute between Halle-Neustadt, Teutschenthal and Naumburg faster than ever before. But I hadn’t reckoned with the landlord.
Getting money for petrol was a drama. I didn’t get any pocket money. And I felt uncomfortable constantly scrounging a few marks from Grandma Frieda and Aunt Vera. A full tank cost 15 marks. Where to get it, if not by stealing?
How To Diaries is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit tjannot.substack.com/subscribe
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By Tommy H. JannotMy 50th day in custody. That’s seven weeks and one day, or 1,200 hours, that I’ve been locked up. Because of a piece of paper and because I wanted to travel to the West on the Reichsbahn.
At least it was my own decision. The public prosecutor took the bait (see Friday, January 27). And solicitor Vogel wants to take care of me (see Thursday, February 2).
If things continue at this pace, I will have plenty of opportunity to reflect on the old days. 1981 was one of my fastest years.
How To Diaries is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
It didn’t take long before the 45 km/h that my SR2 could manage was far too slow for me. With a higher carburettor needle, more air supply and a polished manifold, I managed to tune it up to 50.
During the summer holidays, I went to a “work camp” to earn the money I needed for a faster moped. Unfortunately, they sent me home after two weeks for disciplinary reasons.
The wages weren’t enough to buy the used Jawa Mustang I had spotted in the classifieds section of a newspaper. My only hope was that this “Indianerfahrrad” (local pun as Indian Bicycle) had no fans among connoisseurs. That way, hopefully, it wouldn’t find a buyer anytime soon.
It was supposed to cost 300 marks. I was just under 100 marks short. Grandma Frieda couldn’t bear to see me in such misery and helped me out.
Within a few days, I was the proud owner of a bright red “Jawa 50 Type 23 Mustang”, as the moped was called in full.
It managed 60 “Klamotten” (clothes, local slang for speed in km/h). Now I could commute between Halle-Neustadt, Teutschenthal and Naumburg faster than ever before. But I hadn’t reckoned with the landlord.
Getting money for petrol was a drama. I didn’t get any pocket money. And I felt uncomfortable constantly scrounging a few marks from Grandma Frieda and Aunt Vera. A full tank cost 15 marks. Where to get it, if not by stealing?
How To Diaries is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit tjannot.substack.com/subscribe