It is again one of these lonesome fucking days which do not want to end. The rain flows that much that my windows become drums. My last cigar has changed into a glow stalk and in me grows frustration. Bruno lies directly under the desk and enjoys himself in the skeletons of any damned vermin. The sun slowly burns in her red afterglow a hole in the clouds. However, I worry only about one thing which doesn’t let me rest.



He stands there outdoors. In silver. Lonely. I know: He belongs to me. The key, it lies on my desk and looks at me. It is ungrateful weather for him. Of course he stands there covert. The thought to see him in this weather uncovered, fulfils my eyes with tears. I take a glance on his unique silhouette. One said to me, he would have French genes of the Riviera in his Asian veins. His father had taste. Give him his due. Adult he is marked with a lot of style and charm.

Bruno loves his bone notable, loud smacks rings out. The Venetian blinds fill with light and reflect it to the office wall. It is so far. He is so far. The rain evaporates and the glow of the evening sun comes through. A few last drops cannot resist to follow once again full of joy his soft lines. I stub out my cigar in the ashtray and reach to the desired key. I cannot do this to him. He has to move. And he hast to stretch. 

Bruno leaves his bone unwilling and follows my steps. Good old dog.

A button pressure and he reveals his core to me. I open his passenger's door. Bruno gets in and holds back elegantly thirsty slobber. Just the things which a dog does. The walk to the left door causes a feeling of luck and harmony for my soul.

With the entrance his name shines to me discreetly. Then I also already sit in him. Soft leather wraps up me. Root wood pleases my eyes. At the touch of a button this façade disappears and the Must-Have variation of a multimedia system appears. Exclusivity by Mark Levinson, that goes without saying. Everything opens and shuts in quiet whispering movements. Reservation. The key turns, the engine starts. Susurration. Bruno lets his sensitive ears walk about the engines noise. He lies down back on his place slightly rumbling, irritated whether his ears slowly failing. However, Bruno is not deaf. Good old dog. He is simply so cultivated and run-quiet that no noise is discernible.

Before us are 300 V8 HP, purring like a cat with integrated silencer. A look to the back and I sees two suitcases on the "jump seats". The word itself already allows foreseeing how urgent it would have to be that a person with healthy mind would sit down here voluntarily. However Bruno’s bones and my cigar collection find here clearly place. What brings me again to this bothering question…



Before I touch the accelerator, I allow my finger swing to the Button for the roof. Within 25 seconds the steel roof disappears in the moment later vanished boot. Now the journey can begin. I kick slowly the pedal and "glide" on the street. A better word for this can not come into mind.

Every bump becomes fixed. The chassis remains always taut enough to offer enough hold also in the curves. Indeed, he doesn’t really like it to go with tempo 100 to the curve. For that he has become already too much affluent French in his genes. One already notices the small baguette a little over. Country roads are a true pleasure with this car. Do you belong to these people with the right cad blood in the veins? With this car the blood becomes a tough thick mass. No Kick-down Burnout, no loud yelling V8 which shows who is the master of disaster in the traffic.

On the highway Bruno and I, nevertheless, have our fun to overtake the worth German colleagues with her limited 250 km/h. Our carriage closes only with 260. Enough to let the smart behind dance before the a little irritated competition before he moves away. Also while sprinting it is with 6.2 seconds of pressure on 100 in the tolerance area. 419 Nm including.



The pleasure of driving is sensuousness matchlessly. With no other car it goes more relaxing from A to B. Bruno and I want to test us and already plan a long and happy journey through the Alps. Shaving things and osseous stock are hardly packed, the just implied thought comes in real form of my wife. Where to put it? Clearly. A small phone call with the Bluetooth steered car phone lets the nice men of the women's home come and already she is tucked away in a nice room with flowers and everyday exit. Two weeks only Bruno and I.

Make my Day!!!

text: Mario- Roman Lambrecht
photos: Mario- Roman Lambrecht
translation: Monsha