I called Italy, in July I make forty-nine years and I live in Rome. I have a wife and three children (two males and one female). By profession I'm a tram driver, that is driving the bus. Want to study I always had little, so I stopped after three years of accounting. When I told my father, he does not flinch and took me by surprise Mario, who had the shop down to the water Bullicante. Sor Mario was a friend of my father (even if it never came to our house) and so he took me to his shop. The neighborhood has said that if you had problems with pennies, you could go to him "that if you ask, you pay them ..." . I do not know if they really gave the money through the throat (of course, people with hat in hand if they saw in the workshop), but with me Sor Mario was a good person. He tried to teach me the trade, including how to give some rip-off to someone who deserves it, but I really do not want the coach builder, and so I gave up. The truth is that I did not even want to work. I was looking at that time. I know now that I'm so, with the belly, bald head and the hair coming out in clumps from his nose and ears, it is difficult to believe. But I was beautiful. I liked going to sea, Ostia, down to the gates. Franco and I went with my Vespino, and we were all day to chase the girls. The first pecking, came home with the Vespa and the girl, the other only by bus. At Ostia, inter alia, for the first time I saw my wife.
When I stopped going to the source Mario, my father gave me the word more. I walked into a room and he went out. I sat at the table and he got up to go watch television. My mother suffered terribly this situation. Every time he tried to tell my father "Alfie is still a boy ..." , he replied "You a guy a nice cock. What does it do only the good life! " and slammed his hand firmly on the table, as if to give me that slap that I have never really let go.
My mom was a very simple and religious woman. He went to Mass every week. One Sunday morning, after the service, went to Don Lino, the parish priest to talk to him about this child who did not want to have neither art nor part. Don Lino knew me in the sense that he knew who I was and remembered that when I was seven or eight years, I went with my friends to do the altar boy. Few Sundays later, the priest, dismissed the faithful with the canonical formula, motioned to my mother, who was in the front row as always, to follow him to the sacristy. Giving her back while carefully put away the vestments, he told her that he offered the blessing of Cardinal Rocchi, which the municipal transport company president, a devoted person of which the high priest was both father confessor and spiritual adviser, had expressed its concern about the difficulty of finding young sensible that they could become good drivers. Don Lino also told her that I had waited until the next morning, the company transports.
Nearly thirty years I drive buses. Since I started, everything changed. Once I looked into the rearview mirror and saw people care not to take more freedom than they would grant the decorum and good manners. The elderly were seated and the young stand. You could see shoes worn but polished and jackets with patched elbows. The morning was a bus full of rich people first of decency and respect for themselves. In short, an Italy was a bit 'poorer, but much more dignified.
Today, young girls of the age of my daughter go up in groups, laughing and screaming as if they were alone in a deserted square. They are fifteen years old and dressed in the morning at nine o'clock in the evening as those that are on television. When I stopped at the traffic lights, the spy from the mirror. Are you aware of being observed, the pose and fix the mirror as if it were a camera on. I never think that my daughter is one of them. Even my daughter will do so? Sure, even if we do not really know. I really do not know anything about her. When I was young, my father was to want to avoid, today is my daughter. He's always that friend with her chubby, Nadia, and you never know where they go or with whom they are. And then (another mystery) is always the phone, her phone, including SMS and calls, it rings continuously. Is it possible that's just me, when I call, I invariably find it locked? I do not know if it goes well in school, if you have a boyfriend, if it is still a virgin. Nothing. He speaks only with his mother. The only time I addressed word is money when he asks me: to go to the beach with friends, to charge the phone, for gasoline scooter, for anything. I must tell her mother that have to change the registry. Why all the blame lies with my wife when I impose something and deny their children, I know that she eventually secretly gives it to him. He does it because he wants to be the favorite parent. Bitch. But if a rule must also give her a bitch, because of the mortgage, the rate of the machine and everything else, there is more money and is no longer buying time to throw them away sandals and sunglasses the sun stands by those Mustapha, Ibrahim and Mohamed, I did not understand why then should all come here instead of staying at home, in Africa or wherever they like.
And now? That is it now? Ah, here's another one who does not know where that should go down. But do not you know do not talk to the driver? Dearie, if you do not know what is your stop, your cocks are. That's life, I'm sorry. I
, finished this round, I go home.
When I stopped going to the source Mario, my father gave me the word more. I walked into a room and he went out. I sat at the table and he got up to go watch television. My mother suffered terribly this situation. Every time he tried to tell my father "Alfie is still a boy ..." , he replied "You a guy a nice cock. What does it do only the good life! " and slammed his hand firmly on the table, as if to give me that slap that I have never really let go.
My mom was a very simple and religious woman. He went to Mass every week. One Sunday morning, after the service, went to Don Lino, the parish priest to talk to him about this child who did not want to have neither art nor part. Don Lino knew me in the sense that he knew who I was and remembered that when I was seven or eight years, I went with my friends to do the altar boy. Few Sundays later, the priest, dismissed the faithful with the canonical formula, motioned to my mother, who was in the front row as always, to follow him to the sacristy. Giving her back while carefully put away the vestments, he told her that he offered the blessing of Cardinal Rocchi, which the municipal transport company president, a devoted person of which the high priest was both father confessor and spiritual adviser, had expressed its concern about the difficulty of finding young sensible that they could become good drivers. Don Lino also told her that I had waited until the next morning, the company transports.
Nearly thirty years I drive buses. Since I started, everything changed. Once I looked into the rearview mirror and saw people care not to take more freedom than they would grant the decorum and good manners. The elderly were seated and the young stand. You could see shoes worn but polished and jackets with patched elbows. The morning was a bus full of rich people first of decency and respect for themselves. In short, an Italy was a bit 'poorer, but much more dignified.
Today, young girls of the age of my daughter go up in groups, laughing and screaming as if they were alone in a deserted square. They are fifteen years old and dressed in the morning at nine o'clock in the evening as those that are on television. When I stopped at the traffic lights, the spy from the mirror. Are you aware of being observed, the pose and fix the mirror as if it were a camera on. I never think that my daughter is one of them. Even my daughter will do so? Sure, even if we do not really know. I really do not know anything about her. When I was young, my father was to want to avoid, today is my daughter. He's always that friend with her chubby, Nadia, and you never know where they go or with whom they are. And then (another mystery) is always the phone, her phone, including SMS and calls, it rings continuously. Is it possible that's just me, when I call, I invariably find it locked? I do not know if it goes well in school, if you have a boyfriend, if it is still a virgin. Nothing. He speaks only with his mother. The only time I addressed word is money when he asks me: to go to the beach with friends, to charge the phone, for gasoline scooter, for anything. I must tell her mother that have to change the registry. Why all the blame lies with my wife when I impose something and deny their children, I know that she eventually secretly gives it to him. He does it because he wants to be the favorite parent. Bitch. But if a rule must also give her a bitch, because of the mortgage, the rate of the machine and everything else, there is more money and is no longer buying time to throw them away sandals and sunglasses the sun stands by those Mustapha, Ibrahim and Mohamed, I did not understand why then should all come here instead of staying at home, in Africa or wherever they like.
And now? That is it now? Ah, here's another one who does not know where that should go down. But do not you know do not talk to the driver? Dearie, if you do not know what is your stop, your cocks are. That's life, I'm sorry. I
, finished this round, I go home.
