A friend of mine (thanks Massimo!)Â told me this amazing and ridiculous story about men and cars and how they communicate their feelings and needs.
My brother was out for vacation and, after a couple of weeks, he called me asking about his brand new car. â€œHi George â€“ he said â€“ could you please go and take a look to my car? She called me this morning asking for some care about the engine; it was not so clear, she looked a bit nervous, could you go to my house and verify her status?â€ I was puzzled by this conversation, but it was my brotherâ€™s voice and it seems quite normal. He said â€œYouâ€™ll find the right key on the desk near the main entrance, but please donâ€™t use the red one â€˜cause itâ€™s only for emergencyâ€. In a while I reached my brotherâ€™s house and, obviously, I took the red key. When I opened the garage I remember a bit of fear in the dark, I looked suspiciously at the red light glancing into the room but finally I entered the car and put the key into the hole. Everything was ok, the car choked and started to roar, but a clear message appeared on the display, inviting me to drive for about 10 miles in order to recharge the batteries, nothing else.
I drove for half an hour on that wonderful car, full of optional and very good smelling, and then I reached the garage again. The scene that appeared was incredible and funny too: a police patrol and a wrecker were apparently waiting for me or, better, for the car I was driving. I went down slowly while policemen and mechanics looked at me suspiciously. One of them, a mechanic, started with â€œHi, man, your car called me saying thereâ€™s something wrong and you need assistance. Where is the problem?â€ but the policeman yelled out â€œWait, wait, the car called us for first, talking about someone that is stealing her, starting the engine with the wrong keyâ€¦So, please, who are you??â€
I went out of this nightmare in a couple of hours, â€˜cause my brother was unavailable on the phone for an explanation to the policemen. But, when I started to shout and kick the left door of that wonderful car, he called me back immediately crying â€œPlease, George, my car called me, she is under attack!!!â€
Why do I blog this?
Connected things, what a fantastic future!