Das Thema gibt es glaub ich noch nicht.
Hab letztens bei folgender Passage aus "Dead Air" von Iain Banks schmunzeln muessen, deshalb teile ich die hier :) im O-Ton:
(...)
" I was never into Harleys," I said. "Suzis and Kwaks were my kind of bikes, back in my courier days. But this old thing - " I slapped the dark grey plastic fascia under the narrow slab of the Landy's windscreen - " despite, I'll grant, looking like the sort of transport that would be infinitely more at home hauling a brace of sodden sheep from one field to another on a failing hill farm in darkest Wales, is almost the ideal car for London."
"you reckon?" Nikki sounded like she was humouring me.
"Think about it", I said. "It#s old, slow and a bit battered, so nobody's going to want to nick it. Even the wheels don't fit anything else. Look: comedy wipers." I turned on the windscreen wipers. On a Land Rover of this vintage they're about seven inches long and just sort of flop about in a disheartened kind of way, looking more like they are waving at the rain to welcome it onto the glass than undertaking to do anything so strenuous as actually clear the drops off the windscreen. "Look at that, pathetic. No self-respecting vandal's even going to bother bending those. Wouldn't be sporting."
"They are a bit pathetic," Nikki agreed as I turned them off and let them slump with what looked like exhausted gratitude to the base of the screen again.
"You're high up, so you can see over most other traffic, the better to take advantage of what overtaking opportunities do arise in the hurly-burly of metropolitan motoring. Then there is the fact that this is a Series Three of the diesel persuasion, so when people hear you coming they think you are a taxi and often mistakenly treat you with the respect due to your standard Hackney Carriage. The ancient design means that the vehicle is narrow as well as having a short wheel-base for squeezing through gaps and into restricted parking spaces, and, lastly, driving one of these, no kerb in London holds any terror for you whatsoever. If a brief expedition onto the pavement or over a minor traffic island is required to facilitate progress, you just happily bump onto and over it without a second thought.Now, thanks to the appaling noise levels and seats patently constructed from low-grade friable concrete it would, certainly, be utterly hellish on long journeys or at any speed above a brisk jog, but then when the hell do you get to do either of those in London? So, for an agricultural device only one automotive chromosome removed from a tractor, this is a surprisingly suitable urban runabout."
(...)
mal schaun, was man/frau sonst noch liest...
cheers,
Sophia
Hab letztens bei folgender Passage aus "Dead Air" von Iain Banks schmunzeln muessen, deshalb teile ich die hier :) im O-Ton:
(...)
" I was never into Harleys," I said. "Suzis and Kwaks were my kind of bikes, back in my courier days. But this old thing - " I slapped the dark grey plastic fascia under the narrow slab of the Landy's windscreen - " despite, I'll grant, looking like the sort of transport that would be infinitely more at home hauling a brace of sodden sheep from one field to another on a failing hill farm in darkest Wales, is almost the ideal car for London."
"you reckon?" Nikki sounded like she was humouring me.
"Think about it", I said. "It#s old, slow and a bit battered, so nobody's going to want to nick it. Even the wheels don't fit anything else. Look: comedy wipers." I turned on the windscreen wipers. On a Land Rover of this vintage they're about seven inches long and just sort of flop about in a disheartened kind of way, looking more like they are waving at the rain to welcome it onto the glass than undertaking to do anything so strenuous as actually clear the drops off the windscreen. "Look at that, pathetic. No self-respecting vandal's even going to bother bending those. Wouldn't be sporting."
"They are a bit pathetic," Nikki agreed as I turned them off and let them slump with what looked like exhausted gratitude to the base of the screen again.
"You're high up, so you can see over most other traffic, the better to take advantage of what overtaking opportunities do arise in the hurly-burly of metropolitan motoring. Then there is the fact that this is a Series Three of the diesel persuasion, so when people hear you coming they think you are a taxi and often mistakenly treat you with the respect due to your standard Hackney Carriage. The ancient design means that the vehicle is narrow as well as having a short wheel-base for squeezing through gaps and into restricted parking spaces, and, lastly, driving one of these, no kerb in London holds any terror for you whatsoever. If a brief expedition onto the pavement or over a minor traffic island is required to facilitate progress, you just happily bump onto and over it without a second thought.Now, thanks to the appaling noise levels and seats patently constructed from low-grade friable concrete it would, certainly, be utterly hellish on long journeys or at any speed above a brisk jog, but then when the hell do you get to do either of those in London? So, for an agricultural device only one automotive chromosome removed from a tractor, this is a surprisingly suitable urban runabout."
(...)
mal schaun, was man/frau sonst noch liest...
cheers,
Sophia
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