Since I know everyone has been anxiously waiting to know what happened…
The worries were for naught. Two weekends ago, I rented a car and drove the Nurburgring.
And it was fantastic.
I rented the car in Nuremburg. (Which, being a couple hundred kilometers from the 'ring, may not have aroused their suspicions.) You know how when you rent a car, all the ads and forms say something like “this car or similar”? I wound up with a Mercedes C220. Turbo-diesel with an automatic transmission. Not my first choice.
But not a bad car. And the computer navigation system was very helpful (once I figured out the controls in German to switch it over to English).
You know what’s weird about driving on the Autobahn? You get used to it. When I first got up to 160 km/h, I thought “I’m going 100 miles per hour on the Autobahn!” and I was being very careful and hyper-alert. Twenty minutes later, I’m like “Hey, we’re only doing 160, get out of the way up there!”
I went to the 'ring museum first. I like it. They have Fangio’s Maserati from his win in '57, and a Ferrari 250LM, which I believe to be one of the prettiest cars ever made and I just wanted to see it once, in person, before I died.
Good gift shop, too.
All the Nurburgring signs take you to the modern track, and you have to pay attention to find your way to the Nordschleife. When I got there, it was much more low key than I expected. (I think it’s safe to say that the last weekend in November is not the height of the season around here.) The road and everything seemed a little damp, like it had drizzled early that morning. But it didn’t rain the rest of the weekend and the road never seemed to get any drier, either.
There were a few other drivers, maybe someone went out on the track every five minutes or so. There was one building where they sold tickets, and another with the Grune Holle (German for “Green Hell”, Jackie Stewart’s nickname for the 'ring) cafe. A little office/pavillion for the 'ring taxi (which wasn’t actually around that day) and three lanes with ticket readers to get onto the track and that was about it.
I bought my tickets, drove a few laps, had a snack, drove one more. Even though my rental car was not exactly what I would have chosen, I passed a Porsche on my last lap. It ain’t the car, it’s the driver.
Stayed in a 450-year-old inn in Adenau that night. The bed was exactly six-feet-and-three-quarters-of-an-inch long. I know this because I’m six-foot-one. Saw a couple more cool museums and hit 210 km/h on the autobahn on the way home. Hell of a good weekend.
And since this is GQ…
Yes, you can take a rental car on the Nurburgring.