Let me make it clear right now: For all its reputation as a haven of high-speed driving, Germany has the most restricted freeway system in the world. Only about 55% (about 3,750 miles) of Germany's autobahn is unrestricted. The other 45% is taken up with a variety of limits ranging from 50 mph to 80 mph, depending on how tight the bend is, how uneven the surface might be, and how much local residents have complained about the noise. Oh, and lets not forget construction sites. If you're going to allow your citizens to drive as fast as a fighter plane during take-off, you had better be damn sure the roads are up to it.
Ten km out of Munich, the restriction lifts, and my foot drops. This is what the M5 was made for. It's a mighty shove, but without the "oh shit" factor that some lively Italian supersports cars might dish out-no jittery thoroughbred here. It delivers its awesome power through a calm yet forceful torque curve. Regardless of gear, regardless of speed, it delivers. I'm already doing 130 mph when I have to back off to wait for a Mercedes C-Class station wagon to respond to the xenon onslaught in its rearview mirror. Then, 120 in sixth, Merc gone, foot down-there's still oodles of effortless kick in there.
But the traffic gods are not on my side, and one hold-up after another bogs me down and tarnishes the fun element. In this kind of stop-go traffic I can make just as much progress in a 1.9-liter VW Golf diesel-at a fraction of the cost.
There is no doubt about it. Fuel-conscious drivers need not apply. A couple hundred yards of free space is all it takes to tempt the foot to the floor, even though I know that in a matter of seconds it's all going to be over again when the next mini-van pulls out doing 60. Mr. Exxon is rubbing his hands in glee as the fuel gauge heads for the floor with the gravitational pull of Venus.
And so goes the story for around most of the nearly 8-hour journey. Only as we near the north of Germany and night closes in do things really start to clear up. Throttle open, my lovely, let's go...
But, no. What is it this time? It's Officer von Schnell in front of me with a flashing sign bidding me politely to follow him. Huh? I was cruising slowly towards a gas station (again); it surely can't be a speed issue. Nor had I performed any bullying maneuvers (at least not for a while).
So, what's up? I'll tell you what's up. It's 11:00 p.m. on a Friday, I'm driving a brand new, bright red M5 with a Munich number plate, dangerously close to the Danish border. Since the lifting of border controls within most of the EU, the next stop for stolen goods is Russia.
There then follows an interesting but good-humored discourse as I try to explain why I'm this far away from home without the registration documents (a must under German law). Oops. The old "left them in my other handbag" story didn't suffice. What did do the trick, however, was a back issue of european car that I happened to have with me. On seeing my name in print associated with a previous M story, they accepted that I wasn't in the smuggling trade, and thus an embarrassing late-night call to the BMW press office was avoided.