Iris has eight years by little green alien and it is my true home. He has now done 210 thousand miles and the seats filled with hair of my dog, not to mention the smell. Once it rained, to think of it, janet got to my car also several sprays to pollock, mud. The miles and years away from marking the death of my grandfather Ivo, failed shortly after giving me money for my first car ownership. 18 million old lira. Of course, besides these, I was able to borrow 2 million more from my girlfriend at the time, then calmly ridati. I lived in Corso Galileo Ferraris in Turin, I had my hair up the ass and a lot of strange ideas. I remember well the day of the withdrawal of Opel Moncalieri, the balance by check, the first corner and go back home: it was the September 11, 2001. Not bad for our first time. Iris as my grandmother, then as my Vespa. I ran away again towards the shore, to take shelter under my lighthouse. Course in Padua, to whip neurons. Hopeful road to improbable, wasting time. And everywhere, between hills and sea, between work and a strange disposition to km. It seems pathetic to talk about a lump of metal pistons and like a person. Yet let me be sorry, it amazes even me. A diagnosis of merciless my mechanic has made the terminal, waiting for the final stop. I'll find out a reason to do with it, I will do millions more challenging km highways and pathologies butt plate. Meanwhile, in those 210,000 km life there's a lot who will stop somewhere waiting for a tow truck. No need to summarize it, if not homage.
Before it's too late, I support a small tribute, stupidly moved, this ship and traveling companion, that's all.
0 comments:
Post a Comment