One day, I and my boyfriend found an old Soviet safe. Truth without a door, but with some loop, apparently for transportation. Here for these loop with the help of a bunch of ropes and the spirit of adventure, pulled on the hill. Gorka, it must be said, was relatively dull and ended up in a small, 10 meters wide desert where there was nothing but snow. And then the road, another slope and almost abandoned railways.

In all the calculations to stop we had to be long before the road.

For the launch we prepared thoroughly, in order to first give normal acceleration, the first couple of meters of the slope we poured water, in our snow boil took pots with sand if something went wrong, and also repaired emergency departure if something went wrong at all.

On this day, almost the whole garden accompanied us. The crew was made up of a commander. I was sitting behind and singing "Our proud Varyag does not surrender to the enemy," the operator of a pot with sand sitting in front of me and the guy who generally invented a safe ride.

We were struck by a bunch of people from the hill, and while we slowly but surely developed speed and walked on the ice, everything was fine. But when the ice came to an end, our safe began to drift somehow unplanned. For some reason, my colleagues in the dangerous case did not like it, and they left their posts almost simultaneously. I, left in proud loneliness, just lay down on the bottom of the safe and began to wait for my fate. At one moment, the safe turned over and I found myself in a cozy cocoon, the Soviet safe protected me from the harsh reality from the top and the sides, but the harshness of reality gently shrugged me from the bottom. This blessing quickly ended, and apparently hitting the border the safe turned over again and I was finally out of it.

When the realization of reality came, it turned out that I had a new jacket ripped, it is unknown where the hat, but most importantly, our safe whole and unharmed proudly blocked half the road.

I do not remember how he was removed from the road, but how he went on his second journey to meet the railroad I remember in all the colors. Especially our attempts to slow it somehow.

Eventually he was on the way, but getting him out of there was already lazy, and unlikely to be possible.



Lulu for this I caught the nobles, and a few good months.

The safe remained on the roads almost until the summer.