... yeah. And visit the bookstore on the way home.
P.S: We have a fully (approximately and under given conditions) Wartburg that is older than me. Do you know what a mean mean meanmachine it is when going uphill- it raves like a thousand leggions of foresaken demons, turning the icecaps of the highest mountains into avelanches and petrifying in nameless horror the monsters lurking in the deepest chasms of Earth and merkiest waters of ocean. For there is no word to describe the sound of sinistry, the noise of nemezis, the acoustic apocalypse that the Wartburg is.