The story
As you walk along the cobblestones of Vlašská street in the heart of Prague’s Lesser Town, your eyes are likely drawn to the imposing, high-walled gardens of the Lobkowicz Palace. This grand Baroque building serves as the German Embassy, and if you peer through the wrought-iron fence into the lush greenery of the back garden, you will see one of the most surreal and moving sights in the city. Standing tall on four thick, muscular human legs is a golden Trabant car.
This is Quo Vadis, a masterpiece by the infamous Czech sculptor David Černý, and it tells a story of desperation, hope, and the collapse of an empire. To understand why a car has legs, we have to travel back to the late summer of 1989. The Iron Curtain was still intact, but it was fraying at the edges.
Thousands of East Germans, tired of the restrictive regime of the DDR, began pouring into Prague. They weren't here for sightseeing. They were seeking political asylum at the West German Embassy.
Because they couldn’t drive across the strictly guarded border into West Germany, they drove their tiny, two-stroke Trabant cars as far as Prague, parked them in the streets of the Lesser Town, and then literally climbed over the very fence you are standing near today. By September 1989, the streets around you were an automotive graveyard. Thousands of these "Trabis"—the iconic, plastic-bodied symbols of East German life—were abandoned, keys often left in the ignition, as their owners huddled in the embassy gardens behind us, living in muddy tents and waiting for freedom.
Eventually, the gates of the West were opened, and these refugees boarded trains to a new life, leaving their beloved cars behind. David Černý created this sculpture in 1990, just months after the revolution, as a tribute to those four thousand refugees. The title, Quo Vadis, is Latin for "Where are you going?"
It captures that fragile, historical moment when an entire nation was on the move, literally walking away from its past. The car’s bronze legs are thick and heavy, suggesting the physical effort of that journey and the monumental weight of the decision to leave everything behind. While the original fiberglass version of the statue once stood in Old Town Square, this bronze cast has found its permanent home here, in the very garden where history was made.
It serves as a playful yet profound reminder that borders are often just lines on a map, and that the human drive for freedom can eventually make even a heavy car stand up and walk away. Take a moment to look at the golden finish catching the light, and imagine this quiet garden filled with the voices and hopes of those who risked everything to step over that fence.