Lada Kalina Sport
We're standing in Rosewood park with the guys,
Next to us parks a bucket of bolts,
Painted yellow, hood all caved in -
Clearly its flight into the barrier was a success :)
With a creak, the driver's door swung open -
Before us appeared a face of Caucasian appearance,
Mustache in full volume and nose to the wind,
From the stereo pours a song by Aydamir Mugu.
"Zdrastuy, robyaty" - "privet, daragoy,
What kind of bucket did you bring along with you?"
The Georgian furrowed his bushy mustache,
Shot me a stern look, but I'm not afraid.
"Hey, daragoy, don't judge by appearance,
Better sit behind the wheel of my Lada,
Drive a kilometer, drive another,
And right away you'll learn RosAvtoProm is cool"
With obvious doubt I walked around the front,
Stared at the hood taped over with duct tape,
At the slanted spoiler I cast a sideways glance,
Spit on the ground - but, I agreed.
But just cruising around was too much of a drag for me,
So we set up a race.
Seating myself in the driver's seat,
I turned on a Caucasian tune in the stereo.
I turned the keys in the ignition lock
And was satisfied by the engine's roar.
At the start stood a Golf and a Cobalt SS,
And I wedged myself neatly between them.
"The Caucasian" at the start sharply raised his nose -
And that's how he gave us the start.
The "Kalina"'s start, to my surprise, was smooth
And I overtook the "Chevrolet" and the "Volkswagen".
In my joy I upshifted,
But the car behaved somehow differently.
Exactly ten seconds later, right on cue,
I was already watching my opponents' rear.
I try to cope with the steering -
I twist and turn the wheel with a sharp motion.
Before me appeared a not-so-sharp turn,
The wheel won't let the car turn smoothly.
Then with all my might I slam the brake to the floor -
Terrible screeches, but they're no use at all.
I figured I'd slide through on my side,
But still I smashed nose-first into the wall.
I sit wiping blood from my nose,
Rummaging through a pile of swear words in my head.
Finally I climb out of the "bucket",
I look - the Georgian is already rushing toward me,
The boys are also coming back to these parts -
They're coming to check out my "crash test"
Strangely enough, the Georgian didn't start boiling over,
Waving his fists or even cursing,
He just taped up the bumper and the hood with duct tape,
Quickly got in the car and sped off.
After laughing heartily at him with the guys,
We returned to our cars.
I can't find any decent words,
But I haven't seen racing "buckets" in a long time.
Along with this you can hear my cry -
Just don't add Russian cars to Need for Speed!!!