22
I didn’t really get any sleep, and the good thing about that is, I already saw the farmers as the first streak of light appeared, who were on a tractor coming closer. I didn’t know whether he had actually seen us, but I woke Tschick up and he started the car immediately. We went horizontal under the hill, and then back on the streets and go.
The chocolate cookies turned edible again, and after we ate them for breakfast, Tschick tried to teach me how to drive on an empty field. I wasn’t really keen on it at first, but Tschick said it was stupid if you stole a car and didn’t know how to drive. Other than that, he also said that I was just scared, and that’s right.
Tschick demonstrated a round for me, and I tried to pay attention to what he actually was doing, which pedal he was stepping and how he switched the gear. I’ve seen it often enough with my parents, but I’ve never really cared. I didn’t know exactly which pedals are which.
“Left is coupling. You just let it come slowly and give gas and – you see? You see?”
Of course I didn’t see a single thing. Let it come? Give gas? Tschick explained it to me.
First, you put on the first gear. You’ll step on the coupling, tip a little on gas with your right foot, and let go of the coupling at the same time. That’s the most difficult, the starting. It took me twenty tries before the Lada finally started to move, and then I was so surprised, my two feet let go – the car made a noise, and the motor went shut.
“Just go on coupling again, then you can’t stall it. During braking, too: Always coupling at the same time, or you’ll stall it.”
But it took a while before the braking. You also had to press the braking pedal with your right foot, and I wasn’t clear of that. For whatever reason, I just wanted both feet to go on the brake. When I finally managed to drive the Lada, I switched to the first gear and drove across the field, and it was out of this world. The Lada did what I wanted. As I got quicker, the motor started to howl, and Tschick said that I should step on coupling for three seconds. I did exactly that, and Tschick switched it to the second gear for me. “More gas!” He said, and suddenly, I shot out with thirty. Fortunately, the field was very big. I practiced for a few hours. And after that, I could start the car all by myself, switch the car to the third gear and turn it up again without stalling. I was drenched in sweat, but I didn’t want to give up either. Tschick laid on an air matress outside and enjoyed the sun, and only two hikers came the whole day without noticing us. I made a full brake next to Tschick and asked him how the short-circuit worked. Because, after I could drive, I wanted to know the whole thing.
Tschick flipped up his sunglasses, sat down in the driver’s seat and rummaged around in the cables with both hands: “You have to put this on permanent plus, the fifteen on the thirty. There’s the thick clamp for that. And it has to be thick. That puts the ignition system under voltage, and then you put the fifty on it, which leads to the starter relay - like that. The control plus.” “And that’s the case with every car?” “I only know this one. But my brother says yes. The fifteen, the thirty and the fifty.” “And that’s it?” “You still have to kill the steering wheel. The rest is a piece of cake. Here with your foot, and voila. And bridge the fuel pump, of course.” Of course, bridge the fuel pump. I didn’t say anything else for a while. In physics we had learned a lot about electric current. That there was plus and minus and that the electrons rushed through the cable like water and so on. But that obviously had nothing to do with what was going on in our Lada. Tax plus, permanent plus - it sounded as if a completely different current was flowing through this car than through the cables in physics class, as if we had landed in a parallel world. But physics class was probably the parallel world. Because the fact that it worked showed that Tschick was right.