Unfortunately, Mr. W's experience (see Drivers License Saga) in his attempt to obtain a German Driver's License in Hamburg is not unusual. Die Macht des kleinen Mannes. The power of the small (in mind) man. If one gets caught in the clutches of someone proving his authority, one is lost. Civil servants show these symptoms frequently.

I arrived in Germany in July 1959 for a summer visit with my high school friend Kris and her German relatives. We were sitting on the beach in Sylt when she asked, "Why don't you stay? What is keeping you at home?" She had a point, a strong point, especially since I had just met the love of my life!

That evening I wrote to my parents and asked if I could stay and go to a German University for two semesters. Their answer was yes, and to be honest I was very surprised. They did come to the university in Tübingen in November to take me back home. I didn't go!

One stipulation of my staying was to purchase a car. At age 22, I thought this was a great idea. At this stage of my journey, I was staying in Bremen, again with German relatives. I can remember, there were skulls all over the walls. When I asked if the man of the house shot goats, he was insulted. How was I to know that the little German deer (Rehe) aren’t as big as the deer we have running around in Ohio?

To purchase a car then wasn't that difficult, although for "normal" customers there were waiting lists. I picked out a semiautomatic blue DKV (no longer made). The insurance was sold by the German relatives, but the license...? I had not even bothered to bring my own driver's license, as it was restricted to hand controls. During the year I spent at Children's Hospital recovering from Polio, I had learned to drive with the help of a physical therapist and five cars of employees, in the hospital parking lot.

The Traffic Department was in the inner city of Bremen. Wandering from window to window trying to find someone who could understand me, I reached the top floor. A very handsome, elderly man invited me into his office. "What can I do for you, little girl?" (I was 6'2".) He got the whole story. How I had dreamed of coming to Germany, how delighted I was with what I had found, how very, very much I wanted to stay for a year and go to the university. But because of my difficulties in walking my father insisted I drive a car. Self assured as I was I proceeded to say that my U.S. driver's license was five years old and in that time I had become sooooo strong that a hand controlled car was no longer necessary. I needed a license only restricted to automatic drive. He took a long look at me, reached for a paper on his desk, signed it and gave it to me, saying, "Have a good time in Germany"!

He had given me a German Driver's License!