I go home from work with my wife, the radar brakes, and I have a mileage. At 50, I get out of the car. They, they say, break and all that, we generally start trading like at Sotheby’s. Suddenly, Haishnyg, looking at my car, begins to roast wildly. I turn around, the manna is ten meters from us, a wife sits in it and with the amplitude of the straboscope marks a distant light. No penny was taken from me.