They say that you can take a German out of Germany but you can'��t take Germany out of a German. I can assure you first hand, that this is true: The damage is permanent.

But I do love New Zealand! It doesn't matter where you originally came from, you can always find a Kiwi more foreign than yourself. The air is relatively clean, the people friendly, and intelligence still an unproven concept.

What'��s the big deal about Germans anyway? We'�re just like everybody else: Don'��t cut us off at an intersection and we may let you live. That reminds me: Don'��t get me started on Kiwi drivers.

The other day, I was totally freaked out because I was almost running late to a friend's BBQ. So I am booting down Dominion Rd when two lanes merge into one and the BMW next to me wants to get in first. I'�m flooring it but the 3-liter Beemer manages to get in right in front of me, almost taking off my right mudguard.

Bloody Kiwis. Give 'em a German car and they all think they'�re Schumacher.

Little did he know he'�d just cut off the wrong Kraut. I knew that about a kilometer further down the road would widen again for about a hundred meters and then go back to one lane. So I fell back initially but floored it just before it widens. Before he knew it, I was in front of him.

He couldn't take it.

That'��s another thing about Kiwi drivers that cracks me up: They just don'�t know when they'��re beat. Anyway, he hangs on my rear bumper at about 65, when the lights turn red.

I enjoy a little race just like any other guy, but I am German and a red light means STOP�! NOW!

I could literally feel my tow bar grinding its way into his radiator.

The guy jumps out and comes running, yelling at me in a familiar accent. Turns out, that was Michael from Stuttgart. Quite a nice guy, actually. Once we had exchanged our insurance details, we went for a few beers and a good laugh about Kiwi drivers. They just don't get it.