Marchrutki

Vienna, 8. December 2014 – this city on the black sea, in which i like to balance myself, is less carried out by traffic than a moving particle system. This is in its lowest form of old shigulis, which we were identified here muhelos as fiat 124. The italian communism connection of the khrushchov-ara allows fiat subscription products in the russian district category samara in the mid-sixties. The then fiat-prasident valetta (giovanni agnellis process) got the order in 1966 to which renault and volkswagen had also applied: fiat moge build a factory with a performance of daily 2000 passenger cars and operate a while. Togliattigrad, named after the italian communist carryer palmiro togliatti, was stambed from the ground immediately after signing of the contract. Even today, the even in the east is made barely scattered lada small cars priora and kalina. As far as drawing on financial experts follows, bankruptcy is inevitable. Renault, which has a blocking minority of 25 percent, is also on the poor sales figures.

Trutil without a middle class, but with uniformed suv

This duster prognosis also appears comprehensible here in the black seahafenstadt. Sometimes you can see volgas or even lada nivas – the railing wagon was also popular with us. Unfortunately rust-like. Rost is hardly considered a problem here. Solidified dirt seems to hold the licking body together. Brave stochers the cars over blank strain track rails that give the deep potholes grip and give stutz frying. Frequently sees (or overlook) faceless mass produce from korea or japan, cars that look like loveless felled handbags. A surprisingly often, signaling for the social absence of a wide middle class, coarse german or american suvs occur – basic law in black, low-rimmed with noble wheels and tattered slices. They were never stopped on bin, but a shiguli or an old volga limousine wobble quickly and after a short negotiating – it’s about the prematurity of the eighty cents and four euros – the knees are absorbed behind the narrow front seats of the now private taxis to themselves to entrust the driving art of a man, from which one usually never looks much more than shield cap, leather jacket and what the backpack gives from the passed an uncomfortable life. Mostly, after some time, a sharp -fall-damaged but robust laugh gets in progress, as if an old diesel engine starts briefly and then falling again with some misalungs. This is due to my companion, which as a native speaker dominated the subtleties russian-judische judes and demonstrates an amazing fearlessness given "alcoholic unfamilies", as it calls the peaceful rupel,.

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