Driving in the Green Hell
It's graduation day at the AMG Driving Academy at the infamous Nürburgring Nordschleife, and the speedometer needle in my 2009 Mercedes-Benz SL63 AMG has just swung past 200 kilometers per hour.
As the car hurtles toward yet another hellaciously fast corner with an incomprehensible German name, I'm a bit too busy right now to convert metric into real units, but my spider-sense tells me it's bleeding fast for a car with no roll cage and garden-variety three-point seatbelts.
Schwedenkreuz, I think the next corner is called, and if my memory of the last three days at the Nürburgring with AMG is correct, it leads into Aremberg, a 3rd-gear right-hander that will spit me out under the Yokohama bridge. Beyond that are a series of nameless flat-out kinks as the road plunges into another 200-km/h compression, followed by a climbing braking zone that feeds into the tight, high-curbed esses at Adenauer-Forst.
Hey, I might actually be getting the hang of this place.
Welcome to Germany; Now Haul Ass
Just over 48 hours earlier I'd been sitting in a classroom with some 54 other students from all over the world, AMG owners all. Swedes, French, Spaniards, Italians, some Austrians and, outnumbering them all, a contingent of German locals. A surprisingly large group hailed from China. And then there were the Russians — chain-smokers to a man, these hardened, surly comrades with close-cropped hair looked like cosmonauts.
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