+49° 16' 16.50", +8° 36' 49.74"

Conrad and Bertha are both asleep now, soothed, I suppose, by the rumble of 140 km/hr (that's 80-something, I figure, in MPH, plenty fast for me and my jet-lagged reflexes, even though we're just about the slowest minivan out here on the autobahn). I take exit 31-Kreuz Walldorf to merge onto A5 toward Basel/Karlsruhe. Piece of cake. I really feel like I'm in control of this minivan. Maybe I could handle 145, 150?

Then there's a noise from the wayback seat—a tinny techno beat. What's that? I wonder. It sounds funny—is it some kind of alarm? Maybe they have little tunes for alarms in this car—different tunes for the pressure in each tire? It could be anything...

Maybe I should have read the owner's manual. But how could I? It's in German! And realistically, who reads the owner's manual for a rental car?

But the tune keeps going—now it's repeating! Damn it, I should have asked for a translation—do they let you do that? It's us foreign drivers who might really need a translation of the owner's manual—there might be some system of alarm tunes that everybody in Europe knows but—

Then Bertha wakes up and answers her cell phone. I can see her in the rear-view mirror.

Her cell phone. Of course. That's what it sounded like—a cell phone.

Maybe it's Henry—I wonder if I should interrupt—find out where he is?

I can only catch glimpses of her in the mirror—she seems angry. No, not angry—more like forcing herself to talk to someone she doesn't like—

Suddenly she slaps her phone shut and starts shouting at it in some language—is that Italian? Now she's angry—really angry! Is her relationship with Henry that bad? Bruno's trying to comfort her—looking in the mirror, I try to figure out what's going on, but some Audi gives me the horn as it zips past...

Shit, I'd better keep my eyes on the road...

Conrad wakes up and starts screaming in his kindersitz, but Bertha doesn't even notice. She arguing with Bruno now, pointing at her cell phone...

Now even Lambert is awake—or maybe he was awake the whole time, and now he's paying attention.

He turns around and looks back. Okay, I'll let him figure out what's going on.

I study the road ahead of me for a while. I try to keep the minivan perfectly centered in our lane... I don't even look in the mirror. I'm the driver. I'm responsible for keeping us all alive. Eventually things calm down. No more voices from the back. Lambert turns around and looks forward again. He seems weary.

"What was that all about?" I say. "Who called Bertha?"

"That was Henry's cousin," says Lambert. "Her name is Matilda."

"Matilda?" I say. "You mean Matilda of Canossa?"

"You know her?" says Lambert.

"Well," I say. "I've read a few books..."