THE THRILL, TERROR OF DRIVING IN EUROPE.

Byline: Patricia Beach Smith Scripps-McClatchy Western Service

Driving in Europe has its moments. Terrifying, heart-pounding, thrilling and gratifying moments.

Terror is finding yourself, during a driving trip through Central Europe, on one of Germany's autobahns at 2 a.m. with a gas tank screaming ``Empty!''

You have no deutsche marks in your purse because you have just come from France. Your two nieces are expecting you to have planned ahead. Fat chance. All the color drains from your face. You are glad it is dark.

Fortunately, you also discover that your MasterCard works in the self-pay, self-pump gas stations situated every 50 or so miles on most of the major European toll roads. Saved!

In broad daylight, the experiences are better lit, but no less humiliating. Take the deviazione (detour) we came to in a busy Como, Italy. We missed one of the signs and hence one of the turns. I should have known I was in for some kind of wild drive when a man along the way shouted to one of his friends (in Italian), ``She'll never forget this road!'' as I snaked my way up and up, along the one-lane drive.

The road ended abruptly and precariously on a 1,200-foot-high precipice overlooking the Bay of Genoa. What a view. The only problem was, I had to go back down that road with its 22 hairpin turns - in reverse gear - and pass that man again. He and his buddies howled and waved as I gingerly retraced my route.

Are we losing confidence in this driver yet?

Driving in Europe has its moments.

For starters, if the roads aren't cobblestone, they are likely to be good. And it's open season for speed demons. On many roads, there are no speed limits. You blithely look down at the speedometer as you go with the flow, so to speak, and it says 140! Your heart races and then you realize that's kilometers per hour - so you are only going 90 mph. Only 90?

The key to driving anywhere is good manners and good maps. If you have never learned to read a map, take the train. Once you have decided to drive offensively, there is nothing like a Michelin map.

When reading maps and signs, don't worry about not being able to speak the language. Directional signs now use the international icon code with which you probably are familiar.

As for place names, a city called Venedig is always a city named Venedig if you are looking at a German map. In Italy, it is called Venezia - on signs and on the map. Study the geography of the area where you'll be traveling with a map labeled in English and you'll figure out that in the northeast corner of Italy, there's a town called Venice. It won't have moved much by the time you get there.

There have been roads in Europe since the Romans started building them to everywhere they ruled way back when, so if you see it on the map, somehow you'll be able to get there. About the only places you cannot go in a car in Europe today are the oldest parts of the largest cities.

For all the best reasons, the big-city fathers have cordoned off their historic city centers to all but foot traffic. At the same time, they have provided convenient, reasonably priced nearby parking.

In many large and small and enlightened German and Italian cities - Dusseldorf, Frankfurt, Cologne and Venice among them - the number of spaces in each parking facility is flashed on computerized screens on main streets. They also click off the names and directions to the parking lots, many tucked invisibly under the historic areas.