When I first came to Slovenia five years ago, I was pleasantly surprised to see plenty of brand spanking new cars zipping around, literally hot off the production line. This was not particularly unusual and I attributed it all to a prosperous, liberal and emerging economy. As time went by however, I became more confused. I was being told time and time again how the average salary was very low and that people were just about making ends meet in this new economy, "we were much better off in the old system you know!" If this was case and purses were being kept well shut, how could virtually every Tom and Dick and Janez own a brand new motor parked outside a house or flat. If everyone was so short of cash and the monthly budget stretched to breaking point, then how could they afford such an expensive set of wheels? Did not make an ounce of sense… an investigative riddle opened up that would have made Inspector Cluso proud. Loans from the bank were non-existent and it would have taken 25 years to pay for an average new car. For me, two plus two equaled 30 and heap loads more! Nothing matched and nothing clicked. My only sensible thought was that the hard earned cash stashed away under the mattress during all these years began to get restless and needed to be aired. But ultimately it was a concoction of different and clever financial re-arrangements. These shiny and fluffy "Bolides" were being purchased at an astounding rate, partly with hard earned savings, partly with the new advent of leasing and partly, as mentioned previously, clever accounting. It should have all made sense but still, I pondered about what was happening. I was still a sandwich short of a picnic.

I began to get desperate and I wanted some sound economic answers to my questions. What was with this car culture and why were there so many new cars hurtling up and down Dunajska. Sure, I could understand why the 50 something, mobile phone glued to his ear and Mura suit, " Mr. Direktor" sat proud in a car the size of a football field, paid for with "funny" money but what about the everyday "Gospod" and "Gospa?"

My confusion and fear was yet again confirmed a year or so later. In 1998, a container vessel from Korea pulled up at the port of Koper, threw open it’s bow doors and un-loaded 8000 vehicles in 2 days, a world record in vehicle delivery. If, placed bumper to bumper the cars would have stretched 33 km. Still reeling from this shock record, a casual phone call the following day with a friend caused me to let out some rather blasphemous words when I was told that in 1998, 45000 cars were sold in Slovenia with a population of just 2 million. More cars were sold in Slovenia in that year than in the Polish and Slovakian market put together with a combined population of 25 million people. Staggering statistics! To break the camel’s back I gasped when I read that Renault were laughing all the way to the bank when they reported that Slovenia had the highest profit margin per car sold in all of Europe and they were selling them by the barrel load! Crikey and blimey, my thoughts of amazement and conflicting ideology began to sway towards one of being begrudgingly impressed.

Stationary one day in my new Rover 216 having stopped at one of the millionth red traffic lights on Celovška. And trying desperately hard to ignore the Yugo hurtling towards me from behind wondering whether it would in fact stop, considering that all 15 students inside were smoking profusely, limiting outward visibility down to about 2 meters, I recollected my thoughts and stepped back in time for a while and tried to imagine how it was back then. Yugoslavia had the notoriously comical reputation of offering to the world of the automotive industry the Yugo and the Zastava, one of which was sat right behind me shacking violently as the power charged, liquid cooled, super-dooper-woofer loud speaker system in the boot, blasting music that would have made Alice Cooper proud. It became apparent that these Tonka toy machines had the shapely design of a brick, the performance of a three-legged Sausage dog and a gearbox that would not have seen out of place in a 40 ton Challenger tank. Having been dealt a savage and cruel blow for all these years in being forced to drive these tin cans, it was not surprising that the arrival of a half decent vehicle with powered steering, brakes that worked every time, heating that allowed for the removal of the artic weather gear when driving in winter and a gear stick that did not have to be mercilessly beaten into gear with the right leg, caused pandemonium on the streets.

It was the arrival of a fairytale castle on wheels. The Knight in shinning armor gripping the leather pommel like steering, urging the beast forward with the brute force of 150 horsepower. The greatest invention of all time, after the wheel, had been unleashed, the combustion engine had transformed the traditional square red brick into one almighty luxurious status symbol. Like the plague, a cure had been found to eradicate the dreaded virus, the Yugo disease had been conquered and people frantically searched for the cure. The modern car had been unleashed and people were desperate to get their hands on one, whatever the cost.

As a spotty young lad I was bought up to view the car as a practical and utilitarian vehicle, not much else. The legendary visit to see granny on Sunday or a nip into town to get some turnips and marshmallows, then casually parked in the garage and forgotten about. It was therefore a major slap around the head and forceful culture awakening to find that in Slovenia, the car had evolved to the point of being a throne, to be seen in one was like being on top of the world, the king of the road but albeit at the price of a kings ransom. The new car was the highest esteemed product that one could own. It characterized who you were and what you were. The steel had become a Madonna, to be idealized, cherished and worshiped. There was precious little else that could be bought to forcibly show this new freedom, to join the band wagon of the new economy, flourish with the "nouveaux rich" that capitalism and the free market economy had created.

Was this just fantasy or were people really going raving bonkers? Over time, many people learned to accept the car for what it should be, a private, practical, enjoyable yet costly mode of transportation.. However, the car culture and its far-reaching effects are clear to see. In Slovenia, the car has become the ultimate power machine, nothing else matters. To prove the point, some people have sold their property to buy a new Audi TT. When asked why, they replied, "No one sees me in my flat but they see me in my car!" The person would prefer to live in a tent and yet still drive a flashy sports car. Others choose not to have central heating on in winter and eat merely spuds all winter long so as to be able to afford payments on the BMW. The car must be driven at all costs so as to keep up the parody of the "Hyacinth" appearances. Is this rational behaviour or is it an ingrained Slovene obsession with the motor car, similar to that of the French and wine, English and fish and chips and Germans and leather shorts! No one knows for sure when contemplating the simple eccentricities of a particular country and culture.