Zanimljivosti - Fiat 128 forum

Pozivam sve kolege da se učlane na nama partnerski FIAT 128 forum http://fiat128.forumattivo.com/ Forum je poprilično poput našeg, i imaju prelepe tekstove o 128, koje je besmisleno da kopiram ovde.
Odvojte malo vremena, nećete zažaliti, a ko je raspoložen da trguje delovima, mislim da ima poprilične šanse za poslovni aranžman.

mnogo lepa stvar sto ima da se prevede forum na jezik bilo kog clana va italije,odlicna stvar!

Evo prelepog teksta Luke Pasansija, jednog od starijih članova Fiat 128 foruma. Pažljivo pročitajte sa koliko sentimenta ovaj čovek piše o F 128, a obratite pažnju kakvo zmačenje Zastava 101 ima za ovog čoveka. Inače luka je autor mnogih lepih tekstova o svom životu uz Fiat 128, koje možete naći na nama partnerskom forumu.

" The taxi in Milan " The first memory that has remained in my gray matter on cars dates back to when I was less than two years, in 1971. I'm sitting in the back seat of a first series 128, dark blue 456, that my father is "framing" in the tracks of a car wash at the Viale Jenner in Milan with a portal lit cobalt blue with yellow arrows. , At the time I was in Milan. What a beautiful, Milan. Now it is a bit 'less, but even now I go to Rome one day and the other well, even with its historic buildings rich in history, the dome, the Colosseum and Villa Borghese, I will never admit that attracts me as Milan. Milan is a European city, the only Italian city with this feature ... yes, the European Union! On the back seat I turned it all, including surroundings. And from Milan started the world. On Saturday, we went to the Rinascente is parked in the multistorey, a stretch of 500, 124 and 128, punctuated here and there by Giulia, from Prinz and SIMCA 1000. On Sunday it was near or far. Livigno, where my father was a supply of cigars for him and chocolate for me. The Brenta, Gavia, Switzerland, Austria, but also seaplane. Where was I did not care. From the back seat I looked at the dashboard, with the column of three lights on and off that if you went to the right or left, if breached or if you entered the gallery. I watched the wipers when they were works of style with their iron rods and cylindrical hinges. I did not care anything that was out of the car, driving my father, my mother's side, the interior color leather 128, the two vents on the dashboard, bonnet blue, the hiss of the transmission ... I was so characteristic a child happy with this. Say ... So what? Good point. If it were not for one detail: there was only one 128 of which hung around and around Milan. I gained my "centoventottite" on taxis. Had just turned yellow, like the cab Americans. The taxi for me it was a show. Files 124 and 128 that scomponevano and recomposed, with the red triangle on the corner of the windshield and the TAXI white front and red rear. If there happened to, say, a 12 renault there remained bad. I was happier when we happened to a 124, and I was in seventh heaven if we happened to a 128. My, although I have never experienced these preferences and whims ever did (I was a child ... very british) every now and then, when call a taxi by phone, you let escape the question: "Excuse me, what kind of car is it?" As I was putting on cm changed my relationship with the city. The cab, as the 128 blue, I appreciated the center as the buildings that were on the Viale Monza. Aseptic the architecture of the RAI studios to Corso Sempione like green of the nearby Parco Sempione, establishments and Alfa Romeo Innocenti like Buenos Aires ... but there was one thing: if I was on a 128 all seemed even more beautiful and fascinating. still remember when I saw for the first time a 128 second series, the one with the rubber bumper and four diamonds on the face. He was a taxi picked us up at the Duomo. Yeah, that work of a Gothic majesty that I suffered as I was never able to endure even in front of the most influential works of architecture. In Milan I saw for the first time a Zastava 101. "Daddy, Daddy, what's that machine redhead?" "Do you mind stopping for a moment?" My father said to the driver, of course driving a taxi 128. "It 's the 128 that are in Belgrade, the capital of Yugoslavia." "Where do western?" (Tele Koper, ed), "it is ... uh, sir, go ahead and excuse me ..." ... uuwwaaa Brumm Brumm ... wwwaaaa ... The taxi is broken down, and the driver, laughing with my parents " Uhe, is always a centvintot, Denter is equal, the noise is the stessss ... ". That car red fireman saw her again a few days later, we were in front of the cathedral. He was right the taxi driver, was the same, but the tail and the red were new ... The trips were a lesson in architecture road, obviously told by the windshield 128. I was particularly impressed with one of the toll booths aerodynamic IRI highways - including the Autostrada del Sole. So impressed that about a year ago, forty years played, I began to reproduce the form on the three outputs in 1/87 scale. And among other things I put on the model of the Zastava 101 VV models. Already: Milan, Pirelli, Cathedral, Buenos Aires, Corso Magenta, the Ghisolfa, the ship, its highways ... when in 2005 rose to Milan with a colleague for a course for auditors, the last night before leaving for Sicily turned the whole. What was changed at the time. On the taxi back to where we were staying Sixth, I asked the taxi driver to divert to Piazzale Lugano. I lived there. I found myself the beautiful building where my mother grew up and where, in the garage, my father parked the 128 blue. With the hall that was the only thing that had not changed over the years. Lit by green lamps in the center dividing the two scales, a fountain. It was the residence of Montedison officials and journalists of the Courier. "Luke, when you want to go." "Go ahead, I'll stay here" "but after eleven ..." "Go, I'll take a taxi, good night!" I was moved in front of the place, the children, the mother who took me to the park, Dad came back with 128 ... but I did not have time to move me enough. From the corner of my eye I see something familiar: a 128 second series white. On board one that obviously watching me. I look at him ... "I help you?" And I said, "Nice car. I have the coupe. " Recognize my slight inflection to Montalbano. "She is Sicilian?" "Yes, but I grew up here." We exchange a few words, he just dropped his girlfriend at home. The temptation is strong and at the end I can not help myself: "Look, can I ask you a lift?" "Where to go?" "Where she wants. Even for a few tens of meters ". He looks at me puzzled, but it makes me get in the car. He realizes that I'm excited, do not know why. He can not even imagine. And when I set in motion a tremor in the back. Are in front of the house where I spent my happy childhood on a 128. As then. "Your name?" "Luca". "Nice, Andrea." "My pleasure." We begin to talk about his 128, says that for him the car is a boon because a new if can not afford to buy a house in Rho and 2000 euro per month and aid to its centellinarseli to size. I find that is the son of Calabria. People who have worked hard in a city where "lavurà" is the daily bread. I see that we pass near the RAI studios in Corso Sempione. "Let me also here, thanks. Goodbye. " Call a taxi, the blast from the past is over. It 's true, the windshield of a 128 Milan is something else ... even though Milan is not the same and the 128 is not blue or yellow taxi. Forty years have passed, I changed my city a dozen times. My parents are passed away. My hair has gone from that of a good boy with the left row to the swab to Julio Iglesias, stripped to the balding salt and pepper. It 'changed the world. There is no longer Koper, the Zastava, survived the Allied bombing, are out of production, bent by the logic of globalizzazone. Milan has changed even in spirit. I decided not to go there anymore for any reason. For me Milan must be seen from the windshield of a 128. END

Evo dobrih priča sa 128 foruma, neće se ljutiti autor. Meni je dobra priča o misterioznom gašenju auta pored crkve.

I just posted a picture of my 128 when I showed up.
my story with the 128 is perfectly parallel (as you are in 1969). I grew up on the 128, my father has had two and rented a large, uncle and uncle henry two gigi one. I have learned to know the secrets. I personally have had two green and this is the third (all coupes).
going to tell you my story with the 128 it would take a book, but I do not know with other publishers and field.
, but I'll tell you one thing:
about fifteen years ago - at the time I lived in london - I had two: the green sl 1100 I published the photos, and a red 1300 sl, which was a little less well and used it almost every day (the "modern" was always in the shop. ...)
one day I was walking with my 1300 red stop a young man has a hard accent, a German. but speaks in Sicily. tells me that he dreamed a car like that, because it reminded him of his childhood living in his village "sleeping on the hill" on the border between the provinces of Catania and caltanissetta.
especially wanted something Italian to lead to Albstadt, in Germany, near stuttgart, where he works. already, he emigrated to only 4 years and is the owner of a hair salon. "I sell it?" No!. "I sell it? No! ......... I sell it? No! I sell it?" I think a little ', the other I like best, I know I can make one happy that manages to feel a sense of Italian style and shares with me a passion. "Okay, will you? Need to fix these details, give me your tot and is ...".
wept for joy. expressed contentment that every time I heard after the transaction.
someday I gave him this question: "but you ritorneresti in Italy?" thinks a few seconds. seconds long. long, very long. and his voice changed, moved, strangely hoarse, he says: "Unfortunately, no. from you is the freedom to say what you want. from us is the freedom to work seriously and be somebody., and even if not we can have the chance to live in dignity. come back alive, it's crazy. account to go back at least as dead ... " but I have Italian origins and your 128 "
tell me that I did not cry even in a baby cot.'ll cry 4 or 5 times in 43 years that field. This was one of those ...

" That roaring in the ears " Part Many times, when it comes to car of yore, you make the mistake of talking about something that does not belong to the world. Nothing could be more wrong. Today the averages have all the same features: front-wheel drive, transverse engine, camshaft in the head, 5 main bearings, four-wheel independent. In short, the Volkswagen Golf. But the owners of Golf, convinced chissacché to drive, do not know that this commercial phenomenon, development of himself for almost 40 years, was born in Wolfsburg dismantling a Fiat 128: the VW called a young Giorgio Giugiaro, made him find this 128 torn apart and said, "see that you can do ..." The relationship with the past is understood as such makes sense when "that time", "moment", "event" is unique in any way. In this regard, I will tell you a sequence of images unique because it takes place on a highway that is now almost entirely new, and the few remaining pieces in their original sites are reduced to concern the "demolition of civilians into disuse." even if they are still in use. A two-way traffic, with networks and Caterpillar on red eye. But in use. 'm talking about the old Salerno-Reggio Calabria, a work never completed, designed on an elevation profile crazy, narrow, dangerous, but that winds through one of the most picturesque in the world: the one that starts at Villa San Giovanni and, going north, passing from Santa Trada, Scilla and Bagnara get to, and then continue in an area where you have the feeling that there is not any sign of civilization outside the service area of Gioia Tauro . You have to get to the "flyover Italy" before Pizzo Calabro, to review after almost one hundred kilometers signs of human organization. Actually, the tranquility of the landscape is the victim going south. Rosarno past, continuing to Villa San Giovanni, every time you exit the narrow tunnels can be seen in the green forest, on the right, the view of the tip of Sicily, which specifically called "Ganzirri." The landscape opens to Scilla, in a breathtaking picture that no painter will NEVER be able to replicate. But the sequence of images that I want to tell is to the north. Aboard the 1300 Esselle red today German license plates. End Part.

That roaring in the ears , " the second part of the ferry from Messina to Villa San Giovanni has just docked. I get in the car after having tasted the red hood that stands out on the greyness of other cars from the bridge. Put in motion, I go back to the mainland. The trucks are quite a few and they all quickly. Of the entrance to long ramp that connects the highway to the parking lot of a ferry Alfa 75 police stops right in front of me that. Via the ramp, right at the rail yard, left a whole slew of warehouses. The whole row of cars and trucks to carry 50 per hour. Here is the curve that leads to the junction to take one of the two directions of the highway. The landscape changes suddenly, you find yourself in the middle of the green fallow. The truck in front of me are three, the other two are behind me. Finally I find myself in the acceleration lane, I'm still at 30 km / h in second: do not get no, I press the accelerator and flicker in the fast lane. '' The needle on the tachometer shoots at an altitude of 7000, that the speedometer on the 80, the third down and always accelerator at. The roar of the engine above the transmission. The characteristic whine of the gearbox 128 is felt even with all the noise coming from the exhaust. While I think I have to try to overcome all the trucks I see before the commencement of lane changes due to constant and never-completed maintenance work, a road sign on the right greets me with an absurd "WELCOME IN ITALY". Behind me is a BMW whose driver must have had the same idea. The tachometer was back in 7000, the speedometer well over 120. The highway curve to the right, pass the Agip petrol station and ... I do not see the BMW rear view mirror. The climb is quite steep, but I can knock out the fourth. within the tunnel, I have four more trucks to pass. The roar of the engine sounds on the walls of the gallery, the speedometer marks 150, and comes again the BMW behind. Other curve, two other trucks to be overcome. On the left you can not see the other carriageway but the sea, while continuing to march in the fast lane to twenty inches from the guardrail. The BMW is always there, but at every turn disappears, then ritrovarmela behind the gallery. A Bagnara you slingshot into a wall of green that seems to support the overpass highway access, while the speedometer is at an altitude of 170. The trek is over, the truck disappeared behind and, very unusual, I have not encountered even a lane change! but there's always that BMW is behind on the straights and in the corners disappear ... And so on, up to Palmi. Yeah, Palmi. One, when passing by the court thinks, and it could not be otherwise. The landscape is gradually losing any signs of human presence. One is reminded of the tragedy of little Nicholas, which took place right on the A3. Assails you the anguish, the same fear I felt as a child when crossing this road in the back seat of a 128 or a Alfetta led by my father. Relive the distress, but not with masochistic pleasure, but with the comfort of memories. Even less happy memories belong to the personal luggage. And the roar of the engine did not feel it as noise, but as the familiar voice of the 128 that's in your blood. But those few tens of kilometers I levarmeli soon as possible. I remember running with the street, one hundred and seventy on tight curves not connected disappears where the damn BMW I reappears behind every straight ... end of the second part

That roaring in the ears " Third and last part looking at the mirror with a minimum of attention I find the model of this BMW 3 Series a mk2. I can read the number plate: CT. And 'one of my fellow citizen. It will be a 316, and a little 'loopy. Some year behind already have it. I could slow down from out of my boxes. And if you want something from me? The train service between Gioia Tauro and Rosarno is near. I might as well stop. But I can not wait to get to Lamezia Terme, my goal. And then I did it this way in the fog, the ice, the wind at the exit of gallere not smuovevano 128 while the other cars seemed sailboats. But what do you want, a man with a BMW that maybe such a hurry how much I've got. But you, go, go go, row with your cry, your heart has designed Lampredi, not those scripts from Volkswagen. arrive around Serre. Among the Serre's Serra San Bruno. It is said that those who dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima has withdrawn its in Serra San Bruno to finish his years in meditation. And as I pass the output of Serre, with the speedometer always between 160 and 170, I see myself joined by BMW. It 'faster than me, but to the curve ... I see him again behind. In the mirror I see skid. Shot straight to the floor, BMW does not see it anymore. Finally, the landscape opens "flyover Italy" downhill. I slow down to 120 per hour, a few km away is the station of Pizzo Calabro. What a sight to see the hood pointing towards the coast as a hunting dive! On the left the sea, with its bathing areas are unique. In front, on the right, you see the great railway bridge that allowed for decades to pass the Freccia del Sud, with many of the Calabrian and Sicilian emigrants who won hunger with the work found in Milan and Turin. To the right of the usual and never boring wall of green. And behind? here is the BMW!. I put the arrow on the right. She also ... within the service station and parking the 128. A nap deserves it all, after a tirade of 100 km at 7000 rpm! Out of the car, I need a nice coffee. And here we close the meeting. Down such a hair shaved, with the goatee, on 50. Comes to me and says, "I had one the same. That grip! But she really handle. I with my 323, to keep up with her, I was crashing twice. " "323!? ... er ... I mean that ... that on this highway goes ... I always go to this pace ... "He coughed a little and add:" I can offer you some coffee? ". After coffee we say goodbye. He goes away. I, even after Pizzo there is the exit to Lamezia Terme, I prefer to rest a quarter of an hour. And maybe some hysterical laughter of liberation I also ran. END

" Something There " Part I admit it. I am an atheist. This does not mean that there is nothing beyond what we can see, feel and touch. Our ears hear only those sounds that have a frequency between 20 and 20,000 Hz do not see infrared and ultraviolet. See the light in the form of color. And other radiations? other energies? It is said that the human being, cognitive processes and deductive uses no more than 3% of its brain mass. I assume that if it can use its 4 is simply a genius. Or a medium? What does 128 with the green? Does and how! My dear ramarrone, about fifteen years ago, was the subject of a strange episode that I have trouble telling if I try to give an explanation. But if you carry cold facts ... "something there" The place of "something" is, in this case, a stretch of a few tens of meters of highway between the service station Aci S. Antonio West and the "flyover deconsecrated church, "on the south lane of the Messina-Catania highway of orange blossoms. One Sunday afternoon I was returning home from a walk with ramarrone. With me is my mother, we run out of cigarettes and we want to have a coffee. The ramarrone accompanied us with his sly and continuous hum, giving a relaxing Sunday and showing his perfect efficiency. I took coffee and cigarettes again. I turn the key ... ZZZZNNNNZZ ... ZZZZNNNNNNNNNZZZZZZ ... that start! start the first time, no luck vapor, perfect carburation. Ingrano the first, I leave the gas station, I put the second, 60 hour, in the acceleration lane in the third step, I'm immettermi in the normal lane. Just below the bridge the car slows down, the needles of the instruments are zero. "Hey, what's up?" I pull into the emergency lane. I try to start the engine. The starter motor is idling. And, oddly enough, the lights are out of the picture ... "Call the tow truck!" "Not on your life." I open the door, turn on the lamp on the dashboard. I open the hood ... nothing unusual. the battery does not boil, the straps are intact ... behind the windscreen I see my mother makes me a half smile and the gesture with thumb and little finger to his ear ... Okay, I call the tow truck. End Part

" Something There " Part What a humiliation to return home with such a machine on a tow truck. I'm pissed off! My girlfriend at the time, I came to find to take him to the movies, ask me what happened. I'll explain everything, head to the 128 stops at a street corner, I open the door and mime the start. "Here you see, I turned the key and ..." ... ZZZZNNNNZZ ... ZZZZNNNNNNNNNZZZZZZ ...! Rest of stone. Check out the first time, at least worthy of an electric motor! "It seems to me that it turns fairytale ..." "I eased me walk two hours ago ... Okay, tomorrow the port Virzi, we'll see ..." Virzi is a mechanic fashioned. To see him do not you give the money. One meter and fifty-eight, still greasy from head to toe. But you put before our eyes an old Jaguar firm for ten years, you put in front of a concentrate of electronic speaker as the Renault Megane, he solves the problem. I do not mind betting that the more good mechanical history. The next day, as well, the harbor and the ramarrone tell him what had happened. He takes a sheet of plastic, it rests on the seat, you sit on, turn the ignition key and ...... ZZZZNNNNZZ ... ZZZZNNNNNNNNNZZZZZZ ...! "I take a ride, if someone says to wait ..." And, I see it disappear into the traffic in Catania. After an hour or so here it is back. Down from ramarrone, open the hood. It seems in the grip of a mystical crisis. He feels, touches, takes instruments ... "Look Passanisi, this machine has nothing, it is better that new, go quiet." "But ..." "Go quiet! Good morning, " I want to challenge the unknown. Headed to Acireale, take the highway towards Catania. I stop at the gas station, take a coffee and allotment. First, second, third, passed under the bridge and down ... the needles of the instruments, engine died, lights on the dashboard off. Okay, I call the tow truck. The tow truck unloading the machine from Virzi. "Here we go again!" Virzi takes the plastic sheet, the adaga on the seat, and sets in motion .... ZZZZNNNNZZ ... ZZZZNNNNNNNNNZZZZZZ ...! "But damn it ...". Virzì spreads his arms: "I do not know what to say ... but I do not feel like running?" I'm going home almost in a daze. "Mom, do you realize?" "Calm down, one of these days we're going to patrol the area ..." End of second part

" Something there " Third and last part My mother was employed as a teacher. He was a person of great culture, very "square", and claimed that, when it is not an explanation of a phenomenon, one must take note but do not give up. And so, a few mornings later, we found the time to go "on the bridge of the former church." "When in doubt, go with the red," begins my mother. "No. you go with ramarrone. If we have to go all the way, let's go! And then we must not take the highway. We must pass over the bridge. " And as we go to the site, I explain that the former church is known because four idiots were the "black masses". Arrived on the famous flyover ramarrone the berth and go down to investigate. Let's look at the church, we look around. "We interview someone ... Well, the gentleman who is coming out of that country ..." This gentleman listens to us, confirms what we already know, adding: "They were an uproar unbearable. Once one who could not sleep braced the gun and despair began to shoot at the deconsecrated church. A boy left us the skin. " We leave more confused than convinced. "What are you doing here with the black masses?" "But what the black masses, those were four idiots that they enjoyed the idiots, then the rifle that poor wretch passed it to him ...". "Well, I do not see the connection between the facts, but be careful." Around with his hands tremble the ignition key. ZZZZNNNNZZ ... ZZZZNNNNNNNNNZZZZZZ ...! That set in motion perfect, this time, it seems a mockery. "No, No and No! This afternoon I try an experiment. " I decided to go to the usual service station with the "flame", the other 128 I have at that time, in everything (except engine size, color and condition: 1300, red orange and not exactly perfect). So, coffee, set in motion, first, second, third, pass under the bridge ... very smooth ... fourth ... but, come on, just remember that when I run via highway to Catania with ramarrone, instead of stopping at the gas station accelerometers and straight shooting, or go out at the junction of Acireale ... I'm going to relax in the evening, a billiards room of Catania, who attend at that time. And 'one of those old salt as not to exist, no video games, the old cashier that you pocketed nine balls all'acchito and international player with a cigarette in his mouth from the cylinder of ash that seems to fall on the cloth and instead falls ever. He also played the champion Carlo Cifalà. I go there with ramarrone, I esorcizzarmi from ... fantasies that undermine those two or three certainties on which the bottom - and continue to build - my beliefs. The car park under a street lamp because it becomes beautiful in that light. I have to make peace with her, and beauty helps ... I do not know that fellow stick machines have. Among them a certain Michele, who taught me to play seriously the shanghai and the pull of eight. After a match begins one of them: "Let's go get a pizza?" "Yesss, from." leave the room. "I put the stick in the trunk", I headed toward the ramarrone. While others look at the green coupe, beautiful and glittering in the evening light, Michele approaches me. "Dear Luke, you know I had a nephew who had a way, also the same color. It crashed on the pylon supporting the overpass of the former church leaving the skin. Twenty years not even had them. And you're not fooling around when you're driving. Got it? " It freezes the blood, stutter something about ramarrone who lost consciousness on that stretch of highway to revive elsewhere ... "Heheheheee, quiet, will not happen again. You had to know now you know. We want to eat 'pizza is not it? " Since then ramarrone did more jokes. And dall'indomani I did not see Michael. Coincidences ... END

" I'll pick you tonight with my 128 blue " Part I've never been "cool", I would not have never, as they say, "pull". Only two concessions: one between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five years, the bouffant hair to Julio Iglesias, or has more singing "aa-mmanti, we ghiente for siammo sollo mantles, because we have at a minniapartamment ...". The other has always been the scarf under the collar of his shirt. Evidently I've always been out of fashion, or if you prefer, "vintage". Consequently, my relationship with women, with rare exceptions, has never had as the foundation of the "... that bbonoo, fichissimooo ...". I only had girls and beautiful women who aimed to a solid relationship. For a free spirit is the fundamental reason why I'm not married, nor will I ever. (For other reasons, well, you can not think that a woman is irresistibly drawn to one that runs in 128, when he is in favor spends 200 euro for a model craft, smokes like a turkish, save the dogs found on the street, maybe which they took home and cares signed to dress or shave every day.) When I was twenty I had a Fiesta, which became very fashionable at the time - having it had I still wonder why - and was in the house as well ' Alfetta dad, a machine out of production but strong, among other things, a prestige never equaled. But the 128 was my ball, although we went out from the hedonistic 80s and the 128 was just an old car. There was a university colleague who had a coupe S 1300, French blue. Apparently in good condition, had 450,000 km on the shoulders, the head rebuilt three times, the cylinder liners rialesate twice. He had also the hitch, bodywork, repainted in full at least four times, but was not rusty defaticata. In short,'s days were numbered. "I'll have to throw it," he said with regret. "No, do not. I'll get it. " "Look, just give me the Panda you take it and make the insurance, we do not even pass, sooner or later will yield a crash." Finally I had a 128 of my own. Exploited defaticata, but mine was my "Kung Fu Panda." And like all the stories too passionate, this was short-lived and ended worse. The car ended his life four months later, not for his age, but because a Transit me crazy crushed it against the shoulder of a concrete trench with me inside. The driver of the van did really bad. I got out of it unscathed! four months of passion. Too few to collect stories that teach you life. Yet there was a case. A case ... Red Light! End Part

" I'll pick you tonight with my 128 blue " Second and last part of the "Study Room" of the Faculty of Engineering had known one of those who today call "school ship" or "aviary" (a wise ...). A blonde-likeness is not perfect but ... Fellini, out of the jeans-tight boots well in August (those pointy cowboy type "calatimi jeans", which were quite fashionable). In short, an aspect corpivendola to cause hormonal storms well to the dead. It was not enrolled in Engineering Sciences Biologoche but, as I recall. Who knows why he came to study with us ... One afternoon we decided to stop the study, I was tired and wanted to go home, she had to go to the seamstress to get pack a suit for the confirmation of a cousin. "Will you take me?" Mmhhh ... I know that a program change, no longer tired ... "But of course." We walked to the parking lot in the direction of a Range Rover. I realized that she liked but ... Range ... and went away and hid behind the barracks on four wheels was "Kung Fu Panda." I opened the door and saw the disappointed faces ... "and I should get on this thing?" "Well, you can always walk ...". while I accompanied him, I thought to myself that this was just a pass with which some pleasure and then download it. I was young, certainly inesperiente but not stupid! We came to the seamstress. "I'll wait here." "No no no, I want your opinion." And in the room with the seamstress, via the sleeveless turtleneck, no bra. Via boots and jeans ... at the sight of the stockings I assaulted the lowest instincts ... he turned, veered, put one scollatissimo striped dress with a bad taste extraordinary, perfectly put out those aspects "femmin'e to bed," as they say in Sicily. Rindossò boots. "How am I? ... ah, of course I'll put my heels ... "" Beeeeneeeeeeeeee, beniiissssimoooooo! "... I've lost any brake. When you're a twenty hormonal ball, just crush a pimple to fertilize the female closer. Coming out of the place, as if I had seen anything, I ask: "What do we do?" She said, "I am alone at home, keep me company?". ... I think I could stop here, the rest I leave to your imagination. Suffice to say that with her have broken all bounds of morality and imagination in the name of eroticism not only an end in itself, but the most bestial instincts. We went through there for a few weeks. When she was alone at home I was there. Other than "study hall, Physics and Mathematics Two One." When she was not alone we went out together. I could do with Alfetta the fig tree of my father or the fanciest with my Fiesta. No, I have never allowed women neither to my nether regions to take over on my consistency. And when it came time to distance themselves enough a phrase said to her: "But force with the neon lamp you pick me up?" And I would say a lot thinner and also quite satisfied: "If you like so, or else so much pleasure "A good excuse to send her to hell. And go back to school! END

" the models in fiumicino " This story is significant, I think, for the condition aspect of "colored" of 128. The 128 was part of the "Italian landscape", and although I'd like to "put in a" Special 1300 color silver metallic, when I think of the 128 I was immediately reminded of a first series "Blue Cannes", then a Rally "red orange ", then a special" yellow east. " The 70's are a triumph of color. I remember the choreography by Enzo Trapani, the womens sandals blue, green clothes for men, furniture stores that offered modern kitchens red. And the 128 ... Fashion has its twists and turns. High heels, then the tiles, then return the wedges. And the color of the car is no exception to the early 60 cars of a certain tone were gray. The cars sported the Celestine soft and only sports cars were red. Then the Alfa Romeo introduced the pine green and yellow ocher for Giulia. And the fashion involving all sectors even palettes WC were no longer green but orange or turquoise water. In the 80's he began a trend of "greyness", now resulted in the white appliance that we see in those German cars, so tawdry as spocchiose, which pass for "sports cars votes". (In short, the X5 and Q7 SUV type, often dell'arrivismo manifestation of more provincial peasants). At the same time, I do not know if there are palettes toilets silver metallic, but the fake fireplace all white I saw it in a supermarket a few months ago ... The color is joy. How do you think an amusement park lit by energy-saving lamps cold light? This is probably a remnant of childhood. Who today has 40-45 years is not lucky. In the fullness of experience combined with the forces of a boy, is now experiencing a long period of economic crisis that does not allow him to enjoy life, while still command their seventies are the "giovanilisti." Patience, we help with the memories, and among my memories there are two very colorful emblems: the black dog with six legs on the yellow background and the A tricolor "Alitalia", when Agip and Alitalia were companies that the world envied as Fiat and Alfa Romeo. Late evening of a summer day in 1975, at the airport of Fiumicino, from the windows of a cab 124, three brands stand out on the other: "131 Mirafiori," a dog with six legs and the "A" of Alitalia. We have to catch the last flight to Catania. Sleepy, I drag myself deleting all subsequent images to that of the three signs. While waiting to board but something makes me wake: a showcase at the center of the room whose windows looked all the DC9 that departed and landed. I get up ... and what do I see? 6 stacks of 6 models of the Mercury each. Thirty-six models colorful: red fireman, electric blue, apple green, yellow egg. They are all models of ... "128 Special". Like the one that had just taken my father (though his was white ...) is announced boarding, but I do not schiodo from that window. Yet I was not a naughty child, nor I had never lacked for nothing. Silent look at that stack of models, closed in the window. I ask for nothing, at eleven o'clock in the evening mica you can buy a toy car. "We must go, carolina awaits us" (the 128 of my father, Ed.) And 'a good argument, by plane, carolina awaits us. few days before my birthday, secretly, I see that my tinkering with the cardboard box of polaroid (obviously colored). polaroid came out of the closet in the Sunday excursions to the most beautiful. Why? I knew it the day of my birthday and my sbaciucchiano me giving me a model airplane toy beautiful, with the "A" flag, I would say "open the closet, sticks his hand in the box of polaroid" ... there is a Polaroid, but a box printed with "mercury" ... and the model of the 128 Special like the one I had seen in the window at Fiumicino, blue. Again I wonder how did you know it was my favorite color ... END

The Professor " In 1986, I attended the Liceo Galileo Galilei. Next to the building where the high school was housed a technical institute. I think it is so today. I went to the school on foot half an hour of walking I woke up the brain to deal with the first 5 hours cursed the day. I remember it as one of the most odious, not only because I hated school, but that was outside the school. The people believed to be rich idiot flaunting her fake wealth. For me I have always been looking for sobriety at all costs - which today helps me in hard daily struggle against the crisis - was the triumph of collective imbecility. It took thirty years to understand that, as a people, we were just a bunch of idiots. "I'm afraid that sooner or later will pay for," I said to my when I was still a minor. My parents did not know what to say. They knew I was right, but they were silent. You can not cut off the hopes of a boy with a "Unfortunately, you're right." And since then I have seen nothing but a continuous fall of the values that today are invoked against those who today commands. Blame them? NO NO and NO! How many italioti who went to lick the feet of the local politichetto to have the place close to the municipality or private negotiations for a construction job? What they thought the peasants who for thirty years have borrowed to buy the Mercedes for himself, Golf for their child and the 205 convertible for his daughter? (I remember in times very latest, when the company of which I was a member I gave the lease of a Peugeot 307, which went to a customer. These began saying "nice car, but an engineer should run in BMW." I confined to answer: "No problem, say the administration to double them the bill!"). Undergoing all this idiocy that today we are ALL paying the bill, I seek redemption with remembrance, of sober people that I can only be estimated. In particular, a man who had the defect of limestone image of sobriety with his beard unkempt hair and dirty car to be ashamed of. In my opinion, exaggerated, and exaggerations are still questionable and at the end you realize that just was not sober. He was a professor of the technical side, in his forties. Talking to him was like opening the skull to enter extra intelligence and culture. And he criticized aspects related "to the other extreme" disappeared definitely thinking that the dirty car was a 128 Sport. One morning, while I was in that kind of supercarcere that Galilei was known that 128 red, filthy, but apparently in good condition . The look of the pilot crosses mine, we recognize and obvious. I went to Galileo as a student, he next door as prof. He invited me into the car. Two years since I boarded a 128. I accept the passage. Inside the car looks mad scientist. Disorder everywhere, notes, calendars, cards, folders ... In his bum words come out dry, concise. We talk about everything from current events to the Lorentz transformations. The evolution of Kant's philosophy of religion. From Buddhism to how Italian literature is influenced by the politics of the time, with debts references to Dante and Manzoni. And in those 6:00 to 7:00 minutes of culture, the typical noise of the transmission and the exhaust of the 128 Sport makes the discussion even more enjoyable. One day speak well of his 128. "My uncle had an equal, so red, 1300," I tell him. He smiles. I take courage and say, "Professor, do not ever make me the affairs of others ... my car looks good, why keep it so filthy?" He said, "When I bought it from new tried to steal it twice. And today I have to keep my wife away. " "Excuse me?" "She wanted to buy at all costs the R5. Is terrified of scratching and therefore would like to use this! In fourteen years and two hundred thousand kilometers I did not remedied only gibollo, and I have to allow that provides you maneuver that change like a hoe? Fortunately, the machines can not stand dirty and disheveled, and he knows that I go into a rage if he touches my papers. " For a moment he repents, and with a whisper: "For the rest, I must say, is a lovely woman." After I graduated I had no way to see it. Today I think it was a mistake not to look, because it is one of the few nice things I remember about that period. But when you are young you do not think ... END

Warning stationary " One spring day at the end of the last millennium, lunch time, on the road that connects Zafferana Etna in Milo, in Giarratano. For me it was the test track to find defects in the car "in training". They are looking for the limits of keeping the "ramarrone." A mixed fast interspersed with a series of bends that test the brakes not only downhill, but uphill! Secondly, from 40 km / h, with the rev counter squirts from 3500 rpm to over 7000. Down the third, from 80 to 125 km / h down the fourth. 200 meters before the first bend scale and brakes, the, hum issue is intoxicating. In the second, toe heel, 70 km / h the queue to impress her. On two wheels the machine runs, goes with his nose perfectly parallel to the next straight, 85 km / h at 7200 rpm, down three, two or three bends so begins the fast with a lower slope. In the fourth curves driving a car with a wisp of gas between 120 and 130 per hour. If it was the sound of the intake and exhaust to take over, now the contributions mechanical emit their sounds, creating a symphony of sound balance outstanding. Semicurve slight downhill, light straight and then start climbing. Not without, however, being stopped by the police. Paletta. "ZZZZNNNZZZZZZZZ .... brbrbrbr ..... spat ..." .... "Good morning." "Good morning to you. Promotes license and registration certificate. " A young policeman, young. Leaning against the Alfa sit with the impeller, the older colleague. While the documents do I think, to myself, that these gentlemen could well go to lunch, instead of stopping. But never mind, they are doing their job. The two will consult known face dubious of the youngest and the appearance of the other, apparently more "streetwise". The two whispering, write something. It approximates the youngest and the oldest still leaning against the seat Alfa, pretending not to look. "... Turn the lights low beam headlights ... ... put on your hazard lights." "Excuse me, this is a car of 1975 ..." "And then?" "I can make first right, then left. Okay equal? "" Ss ... yes ... yes, of course! ... okay. I favor, please sign the vehicle is stationary? "" Eehh? "" The sign of the vehicle is stationary, does not have it? "" AAH, U'CIANGULO! "And he said" yeah, him. " The older man continues to pretend not to see, and drops the smile. Approaches. As I return the documents to me: "all right." "Tell the truth, it was a long time since we were seeing a ...". They do not fall apart. The younger probably has never seen one. "Goodbye," "Good job!" ZZNNNZZZZZZ ... ZZZNNNNNNZZZZZZZZZZZZZ! first, second, third. As I walk away, the mirror is known that the two look. I think to myself, how was born the obligation to keep the triangle. I think that this obligation was included in the rules of the road in 1960 because the cousin of a minister produced it ... (the usual vices of all time.'s Nothing new under the sun). I think the two police officers were distracted by the "rarity". Or more likely they did not want to say anything: the rear tires were still the ZX Micheln of origin! ... Carabinieri, I love you really. Thank you for what you do and you risk. Thank you for being there. END

" Eau d'ascel " First part (premise) Ugly, Dirty and Bad. In the wake of the "wasted youth" at the end of the sixties, he consumed a strange fashion that seems to demonstrate continuous evolution today. In my humble opinion, though not certainly a devotee of the image, I think it is only a manifestation of bad taste for the wealthiest, a manifestation of Finance risicate (when I'm desperate) for others. But when you have twenty years everything is permitted, especially if being "ugly dirty and bad" it is combined with the freedom in the most dignified of the term, that is, when freedom and innocence traveling together in the innocence of youth cleaner. I characters in this story, which seems taken from a film of the type "My friends" are really varied. I present them to tell you about the first episode, back to the summer of 1990, which applies both to change a 128. Even today, although no regrets for my youth which is sfiorendo, I laugh thinking about what we have done. Some you can not even tell. How were different between us. When we were in the same innocence and trust. In short, as we were fessacchiotti ... Walter: of roots in Palermo, phlegmatic, when he opens his mouth only takes a few syllables to dry the other party. End humorist, a great lover of Lancia. Today, as then, he has an old Fulvia saloon and an even older 500. Residing in Catania, we were classmates and we became great friends at the time of the university. We've seen a lot together, and who knows how many more we will see. In more recent times, when we were dating, we were called "Ficarra and Picone." I wonder why ... Today he lives in Napa and, despite being an engineer, is a precarious school. Raffaele: Neapolitan doc, comes from a family of humble origins who never denied, though his father has become an executive of a multinational company taking the diploma to night school and graduated with honors. We spent his early years with Milan and we never lost. Endowed with intelligence uncommon at the time of the story lived in Naples, in my grandmother's house. He now lives happily in Romania with his girlfriend (I think Aosta Valley), in Italy, in the talks of work, it is systematically heard, more or less, "she's too smart, not well manoeuvrable, to work with us." At that time ran a rhythm. Alessandro: Milan distant Russian origin, a great womanizer. A piece of blond fellow of six feet that felt well for friends. But seriously, little inclined to smile, the joke always ready to Whittaker. He is also part of my childhood, we're friends "family". He is now married with 4 children and returned to Milan. At the time of the story was in Catania because his father, company director, he was transferred happened where in exchange for money. He had a Panda and even a 128 Panorama she died of consumption. Luca: Well, I already know. End Part

" eau d'ascel " second part (half pension Star) Alexander had just received a brand-new Panda for his twenty-first birthday. He had made his bones by motorist with a 128 Panorama given to him by his uncle, a building contractor who, in spite of the knowledge of managers, he loved being in the yard between "his workers." The classic Milanese worker, sober in life and strict with himself and with others. In short, a man of the past. The 128 was used to transport various materials from one site to another. The machine was very experienced, but still decent looking, with tow bar which was attached to the trailer tent. The white paint in good condition, the display "CL" and the label "MI", even a certain "effect" in Sicily, could nothing against the output from the hedonistic eighties and two hundred and fifty thousand kilometers on his shoulders. But Alexander did not want to discard it. "It's still a long, cascading Melio dela Panda and all'ocorensa can durmirci Denter," reasoned aloud in his typical "drawl" by Milan doc. He should never have said. "Sorry, but that trailer tent ... if it became a tent ..." I said as I flashed the ... genius. The Walter matured the idea Rimini? "Well, you can do it." "I call Raffaele, tell him not to make commitments to the end of August and we will now take us to Naples." The idea consisted of a trip "low-cost" before its time. The engine compartment was used to keep warm rost beef dell'autogrill, the cabin to let us sleep the two highest (Alexander and Walter on the passenger side, only five feet eight inches high, on the side of the steering wheel. Carriage to sleep the most dachshunds (Raffaele and I). Luggage racks were placed in the brand "Tortuga." was started the design of the transformation of the truck in a double room half star. The result will be explained later. enough two mats for the cabin by the beach. But above all it was the organization to be studied in detail. A pack of paper towel out of place could jeopardize the success of the company. End of second part