When I go shopping for groceries I bump into people. Not in the sense that I walk into them as a drunken, homeless guy do. No I meet them between the isles of cornflakes, detergent and canned soups. And we talk. We talk about the weather, the prices of stuff, about politics, about jobs, homes and other indifferent things. Sometimes a chance to talk vw arises in the most unexpected places. I ran in to old friend Villy a few weeks back. We were in the parking cellar beneath a warehouse full of coloured candy and screaming kids, chopped up animals and jars of bloodclogs in form of mayonaise. When Villy mentioned that he was pulling the 2.4 type 4 engine out of his bug (due to a burned valve) and needed a hand I almost threw myself in his arms. You know the feeling when you can't control your voice and hear yourself scream louder than really necesary? My lips shouted I can do that for you, but my mind was really thinking "Villy, take me out of here! - I can't take another hour of warehouse music and suburban wifes checking out todays specials. Villy hates having his picture taken - I had to blitz him.
I hope to see you and Conni more in the future - until then I'll be in the frozen food section talking about the weather.
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