Hey, I would like to proudly present my machine! The Trabant 601:
(in the background, behind my younger brother Czech-made motorcycle ‘Java’)
So here it is: small, loudly and has a body made from Duroplast, a curious East-German invention, a recycled material made of cotton waste and phenol resins. Sound strange? The only, but huge advantage of the use of Duroplast is that the car body is rust-free.
The car has two cylinder, two stroke, hell smoky, anti-ecological engine producing mostly smoky blue haze and noise, and from time to time 24 hp, that is almost sufficient for pulling the 650kg weight down the street.
What more can I say – I love to drive it through the city and watch people stopping and staring or taking photos while overtaking me, what happens (overtaking) quite often. On the other hand I have to maintain it on my own, do all the repairs but I like it too, makes me responsible for the car and I like to know how stuff works, especially the one I use, so after four years I guess I had every part, one by one, in my hands.
So to illustrate repairs here is the photo I like the most, taken by myself using wide angle lean and by Zenith camera, presenting my grandfather, now 80 years old, helping me previous summer with the work on the suspension. My grandfather knows everything about this cars, has four of them over the last 40 years.
And I couldn’t resist: my four legged friend and me sitting on the backseat four years ago.
Hehe, a Java, I have one in Hungary, the same damn colour. My father bought it while working in Prerov in the early 80s. Next to an old rotting Babetta our Chickens use as a decoration on their yard. In summer one uses to chill on that bike in the sun and lay her eggs on it. We never dare to take it away, once we did and she refused to lay eggs
Some years I had a Verhovina-6 (UA) in bright Orange. My grandpa bought it for my dad. The Verhovina we gave my uncle as it is not our style of bike, too weak and in need of intense caring. My dad said it had his years when he was young. The Java needs major overhaul, most likely will be given away for spare parts collectors.
Verhovina-6 is known notorious, ours was well serviced, overhauled, really taken care off, but too old, a sunday bike to drive 5 minutes and then take into garage, but still driving was pain, after minutes the block overheated. In 45° hot summer I wore Levis to not get burned. Gremlins were affecting all of a sudden, new plugs, waste of money....
My pals with their MZ, Simson, Schwalbe, Babetta or Java had better joy. Long tours with the Verhovina, not really, you wouldn't have passed the next village, without an engine black-out. Luckily my pal owned two Simsons, so he offered me it, everytime I took out my Verhovina, he just kept saying, what do you want with a Mule like that, the war is over, you passed evolution, this bike too.
The Trabi, yes the nightmare of every Greenpeace activist driving behind one on the lane, his unique smelly blue haze, the sound.
Spartanic to the core and longer longevity than one expects or wants from a car.
That reminds me of the 601 our Neighbour in Hungary owns as a working vehicle, when going to the wineyards in Tokaj-Hegyalja.
She ripped off the second seat to get more place inside, when transporting larger supplies, but if you need to sit down where that seat was, you must sit on small wooden kids chair, without suspension or comfort. Now our Neighbour is a hell of woman driver, Schumacher is nothing but a boobie against her.
A cigarette in her mouth she'll take you in minutes thru the hillside, regardless how many holes fill the country side or dust swirling around, as long as you sit on that kids chair and feel the pressure of any sandcorn to your balls. You can't even take a last cigarette, as you need to hold balance and fear for your life. But afterwards, you need strong bevarage to get comfortable and feel safe on earth.
My mother applied in former GDR 1972 to buy a Wartburg, usually waiting lists were long, (+20 yrs without Vitamin B or relations).
Well the contract we still have today framed, the delivery would have take place in 1996.
On that very day we opened a bottle of Champus and enjoyed a fictional brand-new Wartburg we never had, we felt like in a bad Monthy Python Movie, but that's life.