“Mamma mia, che bellezza!”

12 Aug

Kitty and I are on our way to Italy. And we’re attracting quite some attention. At every Raststätte when I return from the ladies’ room, I find Kitty surrounded by admirers, at every gas station we are whistled at. “Mamma mia, che bellezza!” shouts a truck driver, blowing his horn. And I don’t blame them, cause Kitty is breathtakingly beautiful.
No, Kitty is not my girlfriend, and not my mother either. Kitty is my car. Michael Knight had Kitt, I have Kitty, a gorgeous vintage 1970 Volvo.
It took a while, before I could call her mine. I’d had an eye on her for years, after I first spotted her in my street. Love at first sight, that’s what it was. But who she belonged to, I never found out. Untill one day I had the nerve to leave a note with my number under the windshield wiper. That same night, my phone rang, and the very next day I had a date with a lady who turned out to be my neighbour. Good news: Kitty was for sale! Once I sat behind the wheel for a test drive, I was sold. With pain in her heart the old owner said goodbye to her little Volvo, but there was no other way. It was a two-seater, and her baby boy had outgrown the tiny back seat.
So now Kitty and I are on our first road trip towards the sunny South. “God, isn’t that Gotthard long?” I hear myself sigh. Am I really talking to Kitty? It’s a car, not a person! After a 1200 km drive it is obviously time to find a hotel. “Signora, you can leave your car in the garage”, says the receptionist, glancing outside. “Such a beauty, we can’t let her sleep outside!”

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