NUREMBERG, Germany — I had said my intention upon arriving in this beautiful part of the world was to rent a car and drive locally during my stay with friends.

I am hereby admitting I did not fulfill that pledge.

Why is that? I guess, to put it succinctly, is that I chickened out. There. I have made an admission that at 74 years of age, I no longer am willing to do damn near anything.

We drove to dinner last night. My friend Martin was at the wheel. He chose to take the autobahn to the restaurant we had chosen. The speed limit was 130 kmh, which is slightly more than 80 mph.

Did everyone follow that speed limit? Bwahahahaha!

Not even close!

Young drivers aboard motorcycles — aka “crotch rockets” — roared past us at speeds exceeding 100 mph. Same for every motor vehicle. I would flinch when they zoomed ahead. Martin would shrug and say, “Oh … that’s nothing.”

Nothing? Was he kidding? Yes and no. It’s “nothing,” I suppose to the police. It must be seriously “something” to the poor slob who crashes one of those machines.

I had intended to rely solely on local roadways, to stay off the legendary autobahn were I to rent a car. The train system that serves Martin and Alena’s neighborhood proved quite efficient and comfortable. So … I let the electronic machinery do the driving for me.

As for the next time, I’ll just keep my pledges to myself.