Citizens of the Russian nationality who remained in Moscow have long moved to foreign cars, and vice versa, some foreigners ride Russian cars. I caught that night a funny loophole jiggull, coming right from my childhood. The driver only understood "500 to Kuzminok", but smiled welcomingly. By the center he rolled carefully between the German messers, and only on the empty flight highway relaxed, cast music. There was a column behind every ear. The night exploded by a crazy Southern orchestra in the style of Lady Gaga of Samarkand. We flew through Volgograd faster than the old Hotabich on a carpet-plane, the stars fell from the sky by surprise. Near the metro Kuzminki, where it was necessary to turn to the entrance, cut off the music and again strained. There were some personalities on the sidewalk. After looking at them, the driver grabbed into the steering wheel and confusedly said with a strong accent: "I am afraid of these non-Russian..."