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I do not know why providence of life you are extending the life of my old car Lancia. I think sometimes when its acceleration black smoke expelled by the exhaust pipe when the temperature of cooling water is placed in the red zone, when the cold winter morning takes to boot, "I do not know why yet , I have not sent to the scrapheap? However, it remains a good traveler, secure stable ... When the silence of the wide road castilla Extremadura extreme rhythmic gallop all his horses from their five-cylinder anxious to get to town, I feel the children's voices of my three children that resound in the compartment as if they were with me on tour, to the bathhouse, the Virgin of stone, written with the Extremadura Estepa between reeds and storks take flight tearing the sky majestically Extremadura. Y or do not know for what reason I still love this car like an umbilical cord that binds me to the past and will not let me pass this into the future ... My car will not let me break with the past because he wants to be my present or my metal coffin on any road of death.

feel their voices, their voices: "Do not run Aita, that we are coming" Meanwhile, our dog is panting Ilaun from seat to seat. We were a family in Merida Ilaun died, I buried him, my children changed their sound and voices of children by adult decisions, my wife asked me to divorce and thirty years of our lives fit into two suitcases, and my old car wants to die with me or perhaps in its electronic brain has mutated into kind of feeling that our voices heard so much, think, and their synapses, including resistors, diodes, capacitors, integrated I'm still like a child, and I only leave when their carrier is full of other voices, will, perhaps in the last trip to Extremadura extreme.