|Subject: Re: Border stories|
G'day Cova and Paolo, and fellow Ziners,
I can remember driving from West Germany to West Berlin in my VW bus in the mid-60s. I was travelling with a gymnastic team that was going to compete in Berlin. (I was the only American on the team in the group).
When we were stopped at the border, we were advised we would have to buy East German license plates and exchange some money (can't remember how much, but for me as a student, I was not happy) from West to East German Marks.
Problem was, it was dead of winter, snowing, cold as Europe can get, and the guards wouldn't loan us a wrench to change the license plates. So here we are, scrounging around for anything we can find, with frozen hands and fingers, to remove and replace nuts and bolts.
Eventually, somehow we got it done. (A pipe and branch, I think). We left in a full on blizzard, but I have never forgotten the even colder stare we received from the fellow with the red star on the front of his hat looking out from the inside of the warm customs hut.
Sold the car and flew back to Goettingen with the team.
Marty in Coral Cove, leaving soon for Panama.