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A strange question I was asked the other day: "Why do you love BMW? Why BMW?". I remember that at that time I was sitting in a chair, and even if I had not been sitting in that chair, I would still have to sit in it, because such questions are simply not solved. I do not know the answer to them. Why do you love something or someone? Love. How to describe it in words? What is this all about?
You know, love is a strange thing. For example, I don’t remember at all how I fell in love for the first time. Maybe because it was some kind of absolutely unnecessary love for me, or maybe this feeling is simply forever and permanently interrupted by my current true love.
Also, I absolutely do not remember when I fell in love with cars. I don’t remember when my heart started beating furiously at the sight or even mention of an interesting model for me. I don’t even know why I loved cars. People love football, beer, cocaine, swingers parties and eat at night. Nowadays, you rarely see a true connoisseur of automotive culture, although, to be honest, they certainly are, which I am immensely glad of. But I'm sure that half of them will never remember where this attachment to iron came from.
I try to remember when I fell in love with motorsport. But this is to no avail. Sometimes it seems to me that I wanted to be a racer all my life. In fact, this, of course, is far from the case. As a child, I dreamed of becoming not even an astronaut, I wanted to become a policeman. The real one that catches the bandits. And I should have been hurt. And everyone would be worried about me (I have a clear desire for increased attention and care).
Then I wanted to be a rock musician, then a rap artist, then a writer, journalist, again a rap artist ... In general, do nothing and live for my pleasure. And somewhere in between all this I wanted to be a racer. And I definitely had to get into the wall at a speed of 240 km / h, and everyone would be worried about me (yes, again, this craving). However, I also did not become a racer and will never be.
I don’t remember exactly when I liked to write these letters. It just started once on its own. And I liked it, and then someone else liked it, and I liked it even more. But at least kill me, I won’t remember when. Love is a strange thing, I say ...
Here we are smoothly and approach the main topic of our conversation. It is worth mentioning that for most of my conscious life I recognized only one brand of car. I wanted to have a racing car of this brand, I wanted such a car for every day, I wanted my wife and all my future children and great-grandchildren to ride it. If I were to the brim full of money, it would certainly be a Porsche or Ferrari, but I'm not so rich, so I only thought about BMW. And not the most "fresh" years. Time passed, everything changed, weather, people around, the ruble exchange rate, my weight, the amount of money in the nightstand, one thing remained unchanged - Love for BMW.