From the author: Thanks to smart, kind and attentive men! Happy holiday with all my heart! On the eve of November, the time has come to change summer tires to winter ones. I went to the nearest tire shop. While I was hiding from the wind in my Mitsubishi carisma, the guys turned the wheels over extremely quickly. The owner of the neighboring jeep with traces of stormy youth on his face, with a businesslike look, slowly walked around my car. The sight of this old new Russian left a lot of room for fantasy. I felt like a fish, surrounded by shark circles. It should be noted that I looked good that day. High boots, leg-length trousers, a light fitted jacket, a beautifully knitted silk scarf. And giving herself the most independent look, she bravely sat behind the wheel. “Come out here,” a voice came from the street. I didn’t even have time to be dumbfounded before I jumped out of the car. -Do you see that your rear brakes don’t work? I don't press the pads! I stand there and try to understand what he is talking about. -The rear ones are also disc. They don't press at all. You see, the front ones shine, but the rear ones seem to have rusted. There is no friction. Here is the service phone number - write. “So I only use the front brakes?” it began to dawn on me. So winter is just around the corner. And how do I drive like this? In the spring, when I changed the tires, this didn’t seem to be the case. The old new Russian walked around the front of the car. “What’s hanging out here?” “Where?” I asked in surprise, trying to see my car through his eyes. - I'm a retired banker. The service was funded. Before that I had my own. With a precise movement, putting the bumper in place, he continued. “You need to take care of the car,” he said, but somehow in such a businesslike manner that it didn’t even occur to me to be offended. The old new Russian took up so much space that my car looked like a toy against its background. “The apron needs to be fixed here,” he continued the express diagnostics, combined with minor repairs. “What happened here?” he pointed to the dent on the rear wing? - Yes, I left it at the entrance overnight, and in the morning I looked - there was a dent. “Either with a heel, or with a gazelle,” he examined the strange configuration on the wing. -I’ve been going to services for two weeks now. I can't fit into the budget. In the hope of being rehabilitated, I answered. His keen interest in cars was incomprehensible to me. It is understandable, of course, that boys play with cars from childhood to old age. But there was so much excitement in his research. Involvement is perhaps the most appropriate word. “Open the trunk!” he said. I have almost forgiven him for his manner of communication. “Voila!” I immediately followed the order. His drive and energy clearly rubbed off on me. How incorrectly I thought about a good person, I noted to myself. -What is there to fix? - he asked himself. I barely had time to raise my eyebrows when he, gathering his hand into a fist the size of a child’s head, knocked out a dent on the wing with three blows from the inside. Before my eyes, the wing took on its original shape, as if it were a tin can. He was still throwing punches while I was laughing with all my heart. -Well, you give it! You can see right away that he’s a pro! You saved me a lot of money! – I interjected through laughter. I haven't laughed so much in a long time. “It’s nonsense, what’s there to repair?” he said, shaking his hands. By this time the wheels had been re-shod. The boys put everything in its place. -Thank you very much, I looked at the old new Russian with sincere gratitude and admiration. When will I learn to understand people, I thought to myself. Such a cool guy. I was literally beaming with joy. “My name is Vyacheslav Ivanovich.” He introduced himself. - And write down my phone number…