The fuel crisis continues

With our successful departure from Magdeburg and relatively dry Autobahn roads headed due east towards Poland, we once again entered the fuel scarcity situation.
The only saving grace was the recollection of a phone call Sol had received in Magdeburg while in our hotel room.
To put this in perspective, Sol's daughter's boyfriend had spoken to his girlfriend about asking Sol for his daughter's hand in marriage. Before our arrival in Amsterdam...the daughter told her husband to be that he was never to ask Sol this question.
This gives you an inkling into the father daughter relationship prior to our visit.
Strangely enough, when Sol's phone rang in Magdeburg it was the boyfriend. He had mustered the courage and asked Sol the forbidden question. This of course was not entirely accurate.
Because the relationship between father and daughter had now blossomed as a result of our brief visit, the daughter asked the groom why he had not asked the father the question.
Like a typical male fool he replied "because you told me not to do so".
Her reply, now that the relationship was renewed was..."you idiot! ask him!"
The moral of the story as always is you are always wrong if you are the man.
Sol, was elated with the call and dutifully granted his blessings to the newly betrothed couple.
So out of the Magdeburg hell hole Sol and I always fondly remember that "phone call".
Nevertheless, we were dangerously low on fuel...again. Finally, I noticed a sign pointing to an exit which showed a fuel and food stop.
We got off and of course I turned right when I should have gone left. We made it into the station only to be confronted by more evil people.
There were truck loads full of young men filling up and feeding their faces.
They looked at both of us with angry gestures and very unfriendly attitudes. They had noticed a small Australian flag on the back of my roll pack and immediately equated us with the British Union Jack.
I told Sol, fill up and let's get the hell out of here.
After Sol filled his bike he moved over to the forecourt when a middle aged German began speaking to Sol enquiring about us and our trip. Sol kept the details to a minimum but the sneers and loud protestations from the young punks continued. The middle aged man laughed it off and told Sol..."don't worry, they are all excited, they are headed to Berlin for a big football match".
We could not wait to get out of there with our hides still intact. These animals were just looking for trouble. It's amazing how even the younger generations are still pissed off about losing the war.