Continuation of the story of the gill from May 24.

History of the Trambler Cover
At that time I was riding the "six" and lived temporarily on family grounds in Ramensk.
4 hours a day on the road, work - sleep - work.
Such a period of life is not easy.
I come home in the evening, I put my car.
And next door, the neighbor is rubbing his own chess.
You ask me, are you not afraid of being stolen?
And I don't have to him anymore, so to support the conversation - no, who needs it...
I was upset, upset... So what about you?
I, he says, take off the trambler cover for the night.
Without her they will not lead.
I said, and went to sleep.
I wake up in the morning - in the courtyard noise, gam, screams.
I’m out (and I’m at work).
I see - a man my friend runs through the courtyard, under the shops and over the trees, and looks - Sp...li the car, sp...li!!! How did you go, shit!! and etc.

Well, with him, relatives, mints and so on.
Well, I answered very quickly - I didn't see, said... and ran into the car.
Fuck it doesn’t start.
It doesn’t rotate or sneeze.
Well, those who drive in Soviet cars know how to repair their roof.
I immediately jumped out vigorously, opened the cap - ba...
There is no trampoline.
Everything is clear - I was removed - put on his "beauty" and left.
But there was no time for reasoning and emotions, delays were punished with large fines.
Something must be done.
I went to a murdered man.
Petrovich, don’t worry, they’ll find it, it’s theirs, and so on.
The poor man, all dead, say, is almost crying.
You had to bring the intonation to the most insightful - you hear, Petrovich, and the trambler cover is left for you?
That look I will always remember.

But I managed to work anyway.
He was young and fast.