It 's a sunny day and it happens that I decide to go wash the car, which is a very simple gesture in itself. (No, I will not speak on the condition of my car, not dwell, otherwise I will have to cite that time I found the phone number he was looking for the blue car, the car from the wwf lady, the union of small cars, a plane leave. No come on, that are not good memories).
Go to wash their car on a cold day in February comes to mind Not just me. Away all the greyness of winter snow, we do this thing that makes us feel closer to spring, which perfumes the house, driving away the bad mood!
It 's a very simple thing: passing under the brush, spray drying, the fifty cents for the vacuum cleaner, paper towels goccine more, stofinaccio for the interior, half hour long and it's over and you go home with your car clean and fragrant as far back as I can not remember. Right?
No. Not true. Error.
Everything is incredibly simple becomes complicated if you park your cars for secondary operations outside next to the washing machine Truzzi, who is there for a while 'that traffic.
Time:
The car Truzzi is a nice guy from the face, with long hair like mine, tied in a tail down as the unkempt distracted me with a small car like mine (but black), which has had an idea like mine. Here we are, that's what makes it a simple gesture like washing the car a very complicated thing. The
Truzzi machine has the doors open, safe moves, is serious and focused in his painstaking vacuum every nook and cranny of his car. It does not come out of his car to the music of Nora Jones, I had (poor thing) in mind as I aspire to make mine. No, the machine Truzzi is a man who can understand the love life time to play with the wind, is a man who knows things, he knows the secrets, there is not, he knows everything and knows that such wash the car you want techno music, which keeps strictly at high volume coming out of the cockpit and we mark the wash into the sunset (this is very romantic, but I say it because it's true). The
Truzzi machine has equipped the car more of a septuagenarian who go to dance the smooth, inside and out. All chrome polished clean, shine it hurts the eyes. My no, even one which has the side in a smear nerognolo taken once at a time that I do not remember. In short while I timidly the rag to wipe goccine more, I look distracted Truzzi of the machine rests on my dry rubbing, I climb up into the interior of the inadequacy, my every gesture is under close supervision, and E 'definitely wrong. And while I wipe goccine, I aspire to the interiors, rub here and there, I look compassionate (for cars) and pain (for me) Truzzi of the machine. Basically I respect him, bury him in his car, as we are. I spoke with mine, to tell her I love her, I really want. But she knows that the more Truzzi loves her, he sees his own, and my inadequacies salt.
It 's very nice, Truzzi, despite the looks of pain, with my fat ass because when I closed my door, which unfortunately has met in closed his head bent down to wash do not know what nascostissimo small corner at the bottom of his car, has not cursed and did not give me a push to counter. Odido I said sorry and he said I'm sorry I thought you and I'm sorry what? that you were beheaded. How good you are, Truzzi.
The final blow came when I finished inadequate long before he arrived much later though, and he was still there but it washed, indeed, had taken a brush and a pail in his hand and he was brushing the wheels. Nothing, I'm back, back. However
washing my car today to the sound of techno I realized a great truth: the length of a car is calculated by counting the number of pine needles in the carpet and floor mats inficcati.
At least where I live, which is full.
(And if you find them also in the upholstery of the seats, in which case the car goes directly taken to a museum).
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