Benvenuti amici!
So, the missus, our 'cento & I were out for the regular Saturday errands. These runs typically include stops for a bit and/or bite of the old country. The missus is from Europe and I am one generation separated from the Caribbean. We love the accents, goods (foods included) and vibes of those places. Yeah, I know, we currently live in Wisconsin. At least we're in MKE ~ the taste of the Old World is largely Germanic ~ Cream City is a nice, small-big city w/a rich working class history, beautiful public parks system & a good chunk of Lake Michigan. I digress. One of our occasional stops is a little Puerto Rican spot called La Isla. It's located in an ever-changing area of the city. It seems every 5-10 years a new wave of immigrants moves in and the businesses change hands. This means there is always good eating to be had.
Anyway, as usual, I parked La Fee Verte as far up the block as I could. I prefer people parallel parking behind her ~ I know they are more likely to see our Pretty Green, then. As we left the eatery and headed towards our coach, I noticed a tall, dark, older gentleman w/peppered hair peering in our direction. He was stood smoking outside a pub, so I was prepared for a pitch for some coin to buy another pint. "Oh, what a dumb-dumb chicken little" is a mantra I would silently chant to myself in just a short few moments. As we stepped into our Fičko, the man called out to me with rolling Rs, lapping Ls, hard Ds, Gs & equally hard Hs.
"Nice car, sir. May I ask how much you paid?"
"Oh. Thank you. Sure you can. $XX,000.00."
"Really? For such a car, not a bad price. It's good. How do you like it?"
"I love it. I wouldn't own another car."
I leaned in, told the missus I'd be back, shut the door and walked over to the gent. He met me at the front of our Cinquecento & went on to tell me he owned a 750 when he was a young man. Knowing the 600/750 was the equivalent in popularity in Eastern Europe to the 500 in Italy, I said "The 750? That was successor to the 600 in Serbia." The man stopped, his jaw dropped a bit (while the edges of his mouth curled into a slight smile) and a glint of light twinkled in his eyes.
"I was born in Macedonia - former Yugoslavia. This car was very popular for many years." He went on to reminisce about his youth in a FIAT, although I suspect the badge read Zastava. He commented on how lucky I am to own one and how much he loved the color. He said the styling was perfect and FIAT, for so much time, was the brand of all Europeans ~ that every European has a FIAT lodged in their childhood memories.
I stored that conversation deep in the recesses of my mind for another time. Many of the memories that gentleman shared mirror some of my feelings about our little one as well as some childhood memories the missus shared with me before. The very personal freedom in the stories of the man rang as so much more than tales of wielding a machine in hand. They were, to my ears, proof positive of the social importance of focusing on making people happy ~ even when it is something as simple as men named Giacosa and Giolito creating past & present FIATs or a group of people sharing their enthusiasm.
I would like to share, with you, a little musical dedication to a kind stranger whose stories made me smile a different smile as we drove off in our Cinquino. Hvala, wherever you are, for sharing a small part of your life with me.
Balkan Express by Gramatik
I hope to see you, your loved one/s & your 'cento very soon...
Vivere.Amare.Guidare.
Ciao!
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