One would think that eight hours travelling at a constant one hundred and thirty kilometres per hour in the slow lane on a motorway would not leave much to write home about, and if one did, one would be correct.
It is remarkable though how automotive technology has changed in the last decade or so. How well we remember during years of commuting on highways at home, being passed by small cars travelling a mere ten percent or so above the relatively miniscule speed limit, with suspensions quivering and bodies floating in the opposite direction barely able to stay in contact with the road. One hundred and ten was well above the limit of prudence in those cars.
Now, in what is really a very small car we were able to cruise well above the legal limit in Australia with a huge margin of braking and suspension capability in reserve, all the while sipping a mere four-point-two litres of diesel fuel per hundred kilometres. It was also remarkable that of the vast number of cars that passed us during the day, some at speeds which were more than double ours, not one looked particularly pressed nor out of control, which perhaps was a good thing, as one does not really want to contemplate what happens to a passenger car that is out of control at two hundred and fifty kilometres per hour!
On that happy note, we are sitting in the town square in Bremen, in the north of Germany, sipping on an apple juice and nibbling on a small piece of steak, and revelling in the differences in everything we see compared to where we were when we woke this morning.
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