Farewell to the Stromer

This lament for an owner's first car, a Framo Stromer, was published in the German auto magazine "Motor Schau" in June 1939. The story was republished in the AUVC Nachrichten magazine Volume 120 in March 2005. See link here for the AUVC magazine. https://auvc-archive.blogspot.com/2020/02/auvc-nachrichten-vol-120-march-2005.html This is my translation of the original German story into English.

"If you have been with someone for eight years, shared many happy hours and had unforgettable experiences together, and then, suddenly one day you say goodbye to your loyal comrade, turn away from him and his existence is extinguished, then you begin the feel the pain of separation. You begin to think back to past days and feel the warm feelings of nostalgia because eight years of driving in a small wine-red limousine bought you a world of new experiences.

However, it had to be! We had known for a long time that a goodbye was looming. As much as we generously overlooked his shortcomings, everyone else could see them. One day, when the Stromer rolled over their ball, the children shouted contemptuously "old worm-eaten chest of drawers!" The dogs barked after us disrespectfully when we wobbled and rattled around the streets, and the traffic policeman was looking more and more suspiciously at us towards the end, as if he felt that the car was a disturbance of the peace. Was our beloved schnauzer really that bad?

Admittedly, his suspension was stiff from long driving over bumpy streets, his back crooked from the burden of years. The hollow-cheeked tires and the swollen joints of his undercarriage were also showing frightening signs of decay - but wasn't it still warm and cozy inside? And weren't the headlights still shining into the future? What did it matter that his skin was cracked and his complexion - even after using the most expensive cosmetics -  was a shabby shadow of his former radiant beauty? To be sure, the gearbox wheezed asthmatically at times, and his heart sometimes pounded loudly with exertion. Sadly we realized the poor Stromer had to go, but should we wait until he was killed in traffic or collapsed in the street? Weren't 160,000 kilometers of loyalty, touring holidays and hard driving enough to warrant our continued loyalty?

With a heavy heart, we took the Stromer to an old people's home, where he was taken in by the large family of disused motor vehicles. The journey was short, far too short for our last ride .... forgive us our selfishness, little one! Forgive us for squeezing the last journey out of you for money. When the silver pieces fell into Herr's hand, he felt like a butcher.

When we snuggled into that familiar place again and for the last time and gazed through the spokes of the steering wheel, the images of past events rose, both cheerful and cloudy ...

Do you remember, Stromer, how we drove south across the Hartz mountains back then? In that country where the gasoline was so bad that you had to sneeze all the time and the days were so hot that we were both pearled in sweat? Do you remember how you, so sleek and modern, caused a stir everywhere? Do you remember the eyes of beautiful women looking longingly after us? At that time you also provided proof of the presence of your soul. Oh, don't laugh! Or do you think it would have been a coincidence that the Stromer resisted driving over that mountain ridge just an hour before avalanches descended over the road and swept everything to its death? Today we know cause - a loosened coil cable - and we are grateful that you have saved us from that terrible fate.

And the pink curtains with the dark red ribbon that still adorn your back window evoke another memory. The memory of that friend's wedding, after which we took the newlyweds to their remote forest solitude. To that ride in the glistening moonlight on which you were so quiet and careful, knowing that a loving couple entrusted you to cradle their worldly possessions to their new home. With a discreetly hung rear-view mirror we traveled solemnly; while inside you smelled like a flower garden, and a long carpet rose like a lance from the fender, while many other household items weighed down your back.

And do you still remember that wild hunt for the car thieves, that victorious forest rally and the crashed comrade that we found in the ditch at night, whom we dragged home for miles? Do you remember, Stromer?

You served us so faithfully for eight years, carried us wherever our wishes led us, supported us in leisure time and working life. Your little motor heart has never stopped beating for us. You have never abandoned us, but have always and bravely worked everywhere, in rain and sunshine, in snow, ice and storm.

And let's take a look at the fact that in the beginning when I mistook the gas for the brake and you jumped angrily into the wall of the garage, but you never really got sick. Yes, your zeal was exemplary! Thank you for this and praise to your eternal remembrance. May Christophorus give you the best place in the car heaven!

Now there is a successor in the garage that once belonged to you. He is taller and more pretentious than you were, but shining and sparkling like you when you were new. But his paint smells new, his upholstery is smooth and cold and his heartbeat sounds unfamiliar. I am sober and uninvolved at his wheel, and nothing in common binds us. There is no trust on both sides - he is a stranger! His gear lever is different than yours. Every beginner can drive him. He is not like you that only those familiar with your eccentricities can handle.

Many things are different, newer, more modern, and more sophisticated - but nothing is nicer. We own the new car, but we do not love it as we loved you. It will take time and experiences to be friends.
HB"