or My amazing carwise adventures in Bucharest, a city of Europe
I woke up unsuspecting. What can a Monday hold in store that one is not prepared to deal with now that one is over thirty?
Wrong question. If I wanted to give a title to this Monday, it should've been... oh, well, nevermind, it is a lie anyway, I have already given a title to this post, and this is not it.
Back at the ranch, I woke up and put on my white pants. I really had no idea where the day was going. I only knew there was a lot in store for me at work, but I really had no idea how to start. "Learning by doing", I said to myself and added:"We'll see when we start."
But the air was filled with the threat of the white pants. Whenever I wear those it's either raining, or something bad happens. This Monday was a fine spring day.
Once next to my car, I checked my tires, something I rarely do. It was definitely that noise, driving back last night, that made me do this, and I was right. We had a winner. The flat tire was mocking me like the grin of seventy year old who's been lucky playing a poker hand. Anyway, I will spare you the details of my Golgotha. In my case it was not the cross up the mountain, but the tires down the stairs. However if you find yourself in need of a screw or a nail I can offer my help. I now can really say I have been screwed and nailed. My flat tire was caused by a screw. I replaced that one with the spare, only to find that the spare collected a nail. Four hours and one hundred dollars later, I was ready for my interview in the studios of the national radio. Previously, I have been arranging BBC interviews from the mechanic's shop. I am that good, and even the white pants can't tamper with that.
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