"German road maps instantly make me think of Deutsche Bundesliga and Herbert Grönemeyer songs", says F. as I try to find the shortcut from Karlsruhe to Stuttgart through the Pfälzer Wald.

I cannot object. Eight hours on Belgian and German motorways, screaming heat that melts away my last Cote d`Or bar within thirty minutes. An unintended one-hour`s break devoted to a search for petrol in Luxembourg, due to our penny-pinching madness. The car filled with the choking combination of diesel and refreshment tissues.
We are not desperate as regards our future. We are tense. Within these eight hours (and the three which followed until we entered into Austria), we accomplished a comprehensive analysis of the job market for bright young things we assume to be. No, no assumption. We ARE the crème de la crème - even if the future that`s been mapped out is nothing much to shout about...

As the sun sets in France or somewhere beyond, F.`s Golf chasing down it`s own shadow, our car stereo tunes into Ö3. How I hate that station. But on this Sunday night, I am delighted. "Summerwine". Lee Hazlewood. Mountains approaching, still and strangely damp. We agree it is a beautiful country, but we are not so sure about its inhabitants.
"I want to get back to Brussels as soon as possible", F. says. I understand why.