KEY POINTS:
The car shakes like a tumble-dryer the moment I turn on the ignition. I try to select first gear but my hand pedals in the air: for a gear lever, there is a handle sticking out of the side of the wheel.
When I eventually manage to join the busy Berlin traffic, there is no point checking the mirror: a thick cloud of smoke is escaping from the exhaust. Driving a Trabant is going to be more difficult than I had imagined.
I am in Berlin for the first time and, even though I am 17 years late, I want to see what's left of the infamous wall. So what better way to roam the streets than to rent East Germany's star export?
In those days, whenever there was a news report about the Iron Curtain you would spot a Trabi in the background.
And when the wall came down, there it was again, with its 50s design and smiley front, packed with people going west.
I ring one of the companies that rent out Trabis to tourists and other nostalgics.
Within hours, I am the proud conductor of the best vehicle German communism ever produced: a tiny car made of cheap reinforced plastic, painted a cheerful lime green and upholstered in a 70s carpet.
First stop is the Brandenburg Gate, the centre of celebrations when the Iron Curtain came down. But making it in one piece is going to be tricky: turning the wheel is like pulling an elephant on a leash.
Pressing the brake, the pedal just won't budge. Hitting it with all my might, I slow painfully to a halt.
As I pull up, something strange happens. The crowds have stopped snapping the monument. They are staring at me, or, to be more precise, my Trabi. They take pictures. Lots. Some even come over for a chat. "Where did you get that?" "Is it expensive?" "Is it hard to drive?"
I leave in a cloud of smoke and head down the majestic Unter den Linden, lined with gorgeous 18th-century buildings. I pass the university, the library, the opera and Frederick the Great on his high horse.
At the very end of Unter den Linden stands the best, or worst, example of socialist architecture: the Palace of the Republic, a squat, grey-brown lump of concrete and glass, once home to the German Democratic Republic's Parliament.
It has been closed since reunification. Desolate and lonely, and covered in graffiti and weeds, it is soon to be destroyed.
Behind it stands the gigantic Television Tower, a massive golfball impaled on a 365m toothpick. Built in the late 60s, it looks like the perfect lair for a James Bond villain. It also offers panoramic views.
Today, however, it's too cloudy even to see the ball up there, so I decide to save it for next time.
The tower was apparently built to annoy West Berliners, but the latter got the last laugh on their atheist brothers when it became apparent that the sun's reflection off the ball formed a perfect cross. So the tower was nicknamed "the Pope's revenge".
I continue east down Karl Marx Ave, the workers-paradise's answer to the Champs-Elysees, and as interminable as Das Kapital.
My driving problems don't get easier, as traffic now thunders past me in five lanes.
But even if keeping pace is hard, it is quite fun to roll through the city in this miniature vehicle.
I miss a gear every now and then, especially at traffic lights, and don't always find the instruments are where I'm used to, if, indeed, I find them at all.
But I am getting more comfortable. I'm actually quite proud I handle the traffic as well as I do.
Encouraged by smiling faces in the BMWs and Mercedes that glide past, I decide it's time to hit the wall. After carefully consulting the handout map, I head towards the River Spree, where a huge section still stands in graffitied splendour.
After all these years, it sends a shiver down my spine to see the most potent symbol of the Cold War still standing. I follow the wall for a bit, stop at a few places to take a closer look, then turn around. I've hired the car for only three hours, so it's time to head back.
My tour ends at Checkpoint Charlie, once the only place to cross from east to west. For more than three decades, American and Soviet troops stared each other down across no-man's land.
Today, souvenir shops dominate and all that remains is the white wooden hut and a line of sandbags. The famous sign still informs me: "You Are Now Leaving the American Zone".
Giant photographs of the last soldiers to leave have been set up, and hang over the street.
It takes me just a few seconds to zoom through the place where, less than 20 years ago, people risked their lives to escape.
I park the car at the Checkpoint Charlie souvenir shop. But even before I get a chance to buy my standard-issue knick-knack, my Trabi and I are surrounded and facing interrogation.
"Hey, where can I rent one of those?" "What does it cost?" "Wow, is it fun?"
Despite the fumes and the gears, it most certainly is.
Checklist
Berlin by Trabant
The Trabi Experience offers three-hour self-drive tours, with rates starting around $60 a person for two adults. The family rate, for two adults and two children, is $140.
If you prefer someone else to drive, Trabi Safari offers tours with guides and drivers. A 90-minute tour costs about $40 each.
- OBSERVER
