2005, Kyuvikanda
“It’s not a bad car, but don’t expect it’ll take you everywhere.” Two men were avidly looking at Grisha’s car. “But it’s a good one, a good one!”
It really was a good car. Grisha had dreamt about it for several years. He did not even believe that he could have one like it. It was too expensive, it was too fine and too wonderful and truly functional, like a mighty animal that had been tamed. It had huge, splayed wheels with an aggressive, earth-rending tread; a high ground clearance so that he did not have to worry about stones on the forest paths; a body supporting a metric ton, where you could load a couple of moose or a dozen friends who had had too much to drink – and yet it had a pretty, smiling face, one made as if to evoke affection from its owner and passersby.
A
