My dad is a mechanical engineer. He likes cars. A lot. Which made my childhood quite spectacular. In the 90s we drove around in a BMW - 323i 1981 model. To this day I remember the smell of that car, my favorite, everyone’s favorite. Later he got another one (320 1980), already partly retired, which spent most of its last days in the garage, as spare partner. Dad drove the red BMW with the spare white hood until the driver’s seat sunk to the ground, until one day the ignition broke so he had to hotwire it to get to work, until it basically became more expensive to keep replacing parts than to get a new car. Both me and my brother cried when he sold it…yeah, that’s how much of an ad for BMW my family could be.
Once upon a time we all fell in love with a BMW.
Illustration: my dad’s taking a picture of my brother, my mom and I leaning on the BMW. In the background, the entrance to the narrowest section (Cazane) of the Danube’s passage through the Carpathian mountains in Romania / Serbia, sometime around ‘94.