Ach du lieber, don’t get me started. The other day I’m sittin’ in my pickup at a Kreuzung in Austin, waiting for the green light, when—zefix!—the car behind me honks before the light even changes. Relax, cowboy! This ain’t a rodeo start. But that’s Texas: fast foot on the gas, faster hand on the horn, and patience shorter than a Brezn fresh out of the oven.

Speed Limits: Suggestion or Law?

In Bavaria, if you see a Tempolimit, you actually take it serious. Except of course on Autobahn where—hallelujah!—you can floor it with your grandma knitting in the backseat. In Texas? You folks already got the highways wide as a Kuhstall, but still drive 20 miles over the limit like you’re racing for brisket before it sells out. And then the police? They hide behind a bush like hunters waiting for wild hogs. We Bavarians at least admit when we’re speeding.

Blinker? What Blinker?

Let me tell you: in Germany, if you don’t use your Blinker, other drivers will stare at you like you just dropped your Lederhosen in public. In Texas, half the pickup trucks act like blinkers are optional extras you forgot to order. A four-way stop becomes a staring contest—who’s got the bigger grill and guts to go first?

Parking Wars

Bavarians, we squeeze our cars into spaces tighter than a Maßkrug in Oktoberfest crowd. Precision, jawohl. In Texas? A Walmart parking lot is bigger than my Heimatdorf. And still, somehow, someone parks across two spots like their Chevy Silverado is a holy shrine. Donnerschlag! In Munich, you pull that move and by next morning your car is decorated with passive-aggressive notes unter dem Scheibenwischer.

Brewkraut’s Box

• What’s the deal: Americans drive big, fast, and free. Germans drive precise, rule-bound, and with deep eye-rolling judgment.
• What’s nonsense: Honking before green, not using blinkers, and parking like a blind goat. Nein danke.
• Prost-finale: Doesn’t matter if it’s Texas or Bayern—behind the wheel, everyone thinks they’re the king of the Straße.

My Little Texas Trick

When I feel homesick for Autobahn speed, I just take Route 130 east of Austin—toll road, speed limit 85 mph. That’s almost German comfort zone. I crank up some polka, roll the window down, and for a brief moment, it feels like cruising from Nürnberg to München… until a Dodge Ram blows past me like I’m standing still.

Final Word

Are Americans good drivers? Ja, sometimes—even great. But consistent? Not so much. In Bavaria the rules drive you, in Texas the freedom drives you. Both have their charm, both have their headaches. My advice: buckle up, keep a cool Bier in the fridge, and remember—no matter how bad it looks on the road, at least you’re not stuck behind a tractor in Bayern rush-hour.

So, Prost, and drive like your Oma is watching—because in Bavaria, she probably is.