Yours truly has earned himself an unusual reputation as a professional driver: no speeding, no matter what, no honking of the horn, no matter what, no risky overtaking etc.
His colleagues sometimes get to ask him curious questions, such as: heast deppata, kannst du net schnella, oda wüsd net?! The answer is quite easy in all of those cases; it's the latter.
Still even I get to hit, not the road, but the curb with one of the hand brushed light alloy rims with a low-section tire on a company car, just about once every 180,000 miles driven on the job. And I hate it.
My boss has one routine question in such cases: "Well, I know, s*** happens, but all those drivers never seem to hit their private cars' wheels, just the company cars'. How come?"
The answer is quite easy: nobody drives even half as much in his private car as he regularly does on the job.
And in my case it's even more easy: I don't have a private car. – You sure, dude? – Yup, and I don't own a TV either. – Ah, where you from? The moon? Belarus? The monastery of a weird sect that's refusing regular consuming habits? – Nope ;–).
I have met people who seem quite ordinary blokes otherwise who don't own a car or a TV. And I even have a friend who also has neither of both.
Still both of us would refuse to accept any personal responsibility for the current economic crisis. Sorry.
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