Phase Book

It was quite a cold day. Nothing much to do or no mood for what is to do. Staying at home and watching EdTV on HBO.
Actually we are all trying to become "Ed"s, writing blogs, posting thoughts and photos on Facebook; at least I am getting there :)

to do list for this winter:
- go to ski every weekend possible
- get 2 tattoos, one with the signature of Ataturk, one with a crying clown
- start to learn playing guitar or kanun (an oriental harp)
- take a lot of photos, mostly in b&w
- run every two days for 5 km
- watch all the good new movies (at Multiplex, pay with CardAvantaj)

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Flashbacks continue; The first car that marked my present

Year 1993, Ankara. I am one the few guys without a car in the faculty, hindering my chances to increase my chick-index (The chick-index is a statistical the trend of the correlation between the personal choice of females and the approximity of the encounters with those of the choice. Keeping the data of your first score as =100. Alcohol and age are main rate diminishing factors, while a table in a nightclub or fancy car are supportive elements)

I had to get a car, a vehicle with 4 wheels, functional and drivable. A friend's father used to have a junkyard and was participating to all kinds of auctions to buy junk metals and ironically, there was an upcoming auction, organized for the embassies of several countries where the diplomatic metal garbage was dumped. Romanian Embassy was going to sell a Dacia Coupe. When I heard "coupe" I was already feeling a sports car, almost tuned to perfection. Didn't have Google to check it out.

I asked the dad of the dude to join and bid for me, with starting price 200 US dollars. Probably my curse helped and for 300 bucks I had a yellow painted East European wonder in front of the faculty's dorms. "The coupe" was an upside down pressed Renault 12 TL, with slightly more engine sound and stunt-wise exhaust fume. The car had a perfectly functioning radio, but the rest seemed more of a wheeled penetrator. It was trembling so strong, I was keeping the steering wheel in order not to fall down the seat or to jump out of the car.

But, it had a character, it didn't like to be managed. It was the only car moving diagonally straight ahead. With the dirty yellow color, it was looking like the promoter machine for a baclava producer... That was the first time when my chick-index was hitting historical lows, going to negative area; even my guys did not want to hang out with me.

Once, when I gathered more hitchhikers than the fingers on one hand, police stopped me. He was supervising the car like a bomb squad, trying to avoid any public harm. Keeping the steering wheel, I was shaking as if I was doped and doing an electric buggy on the seat, while the others in the car were getting to know each other, trembling on each others laps. Perfect machine for kidney stone discharge.

The policeman asked something, didn't understand.. He asked again.. Couldn't hear, my brain was buzzed. He shouted at me to stop the engine. I turned the ignition key off, the engine didn't stop. I took the key off, the engine still running... We all left the car, the police driving us back to the dorms. He was laughing with tears. After 1.5 hours when I returned back with a service truck, the car was still alive and kicking.

I sold the car later on that year for 350 bucks. I was said that the commodity prices were rising in international markets and my yellow piece of metal baclava was worth more money as a bulk of junk then...commodity? prices?

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Hope I will finish my to-do list this year.