World: Autoeroticism

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It was a crime of passion, argued the defense. Paul Wacker, 43, a burly Frankfurt garage owner, had wheeled up to a curbside stand one hot summer evening for a glass of chilled Apfelsaft (apple juice). He left his newly acquired sweetheart at the roadside, but kept an admiring eye on her sleek curves while he sipped. Next to Wacker stood Josef Beinert, 35, a balding, bull-necked gas-station attendant, who soon made it clear that he had nothing but contempt for Wacker's beloved. Words led to shoves, shoves to disaster: Wacker whipped out a revolver and shot Beinert dead. "I love my Mercedes," explained Wacker in court. "I couldn't bear to have somebody insult her."

The only jarring note in Wacker's tragic tale of passion was the fact that his beloved is an automobile—a glossy black Mercedes 180. In car-crazy West Germany, justice takes such autoeroticism into sympathetic account. Last week Wacker was preparing to appeal a prison sentence of two years and seven months for "manslaughter with mitigating circumstances." Most Germans would applaud the lightness of the sentence. "My car is a very special friend of mine," explains one car owner. "It's like a human being. I talk to my car. I greet it in the morning. 'And how are you?' I say. 'Glad to see you again.' Yes, I pet it too—just a light touch, or a stroke on the dashboard."

The Tender Foot. Many a German automobile has a name—Mausi, Susi, Lotte and Hannchen are among the most popular—and car owners are usually solicitous to a fault with their mobile mistresses. "When I brake, I do it carefully, tenderly, not to hurt it," says Writer Dietrich Mummendey, 36, "A car has to be treated carefully, just like a woman."

The car mistress needs to be coaxed with presents—perhaps a fuzzy little Steiff poodle to dangle from the rear-view mirror, or more popularly a porcelain bud vase whose fresh flowers can be changed each day. The height of affection comes on the weekend when the car owner can give his lovely Gisela or Mitzi or Erika a bubble bath. From Kiel to Koblenz each Saturday afternoon, the streets are filled with men carrying sudsy plastic pails and chamois. Floor mats and cushions—many of them hand-embroidered by the car owner's routine wife—are assiduously cleaned, often by tiny, transistorized vacuum cleaners. A recent survey showed that 60% of all German males wash their own cars, 57% every week.

Agony in Overalls. Many German automobile owners undergo agony when their cars are serviced. "When the mechanic goes underneath," says an executive of the DEMAG heavy-machinery works, "I go with him. I must see what he is doing." Steel Magnate Alfried Krupp takes three days off each year to drive his Porsche 911 from the Ruhr to the plant in Stuttgart, where he stands by in overalls while his car is being tuned. Few Germans will lend their cars even to their closest friends.

Explains one: "It's like loaning your toothbrush."