Relaxation kills – column

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Purchasing classics there

Whether Hans had the urge to assert himself? Absolutely. When he was young, dyslexics were still called 'dumb kids'. So he sat in the back seat of the class. Hansje learned everything the hard way. He also had to do military service and learned to ride a motorcycle there. Later he would often tell how that was the best time of his life. He told how he had driven off a moving tank transporter, such a huge low-loader, with engine and all. Because of a bet. He waved off. Took over his uncle's taxi business. Expanded the business. Got to know a girl. married. Started doing some real estate trading. divorced. Did bigger and bigger business. Even learned to read reasonably.

remarried. Margit could lovingly control Hans. Hans became a father twice. He won a few million when he understood how stock trading worked. Became a father once more while his new villa had just been completed. The increasingly rare times we saw each other, his words of comfort were always to me: "Ah, you're a poor man, but you're happy." Hans always worked. Came close to the Quote 500. Gained recognition, and quite a few enemies. Also at the tax office. No problem. “Do you think such a tax bum is happy? He also wants a car. Or a neat car. Or on vacation. Well; we agreed on a vacation and a neat car. Everyone has their price. Only you are too cheap to buy. That makes you priceless.” I wasn't quite sure if I should be offended or flattered.

When he had made another world deal, his final conclusion was always: “They certainly thought they were dealing with a little lamp wick. I do not think so." And eighty-hour workweeks? That was normal for Hans. In the meantime, all of Europe was his field of activity. Hans lived to work. He worked to prove himself. In fact, he was always afraid someone would find out he was the dumbest kid in the class. When a salesman at a reputable car dealership treated him condescendingly, he bought out the president of that company and fired the salesperson. Margit was his anchor.

When he was fifty, the family had a surprise for him. In the hall was a brand new Moto Guzzi Norge. Hans burst into tears, but was still in the hall at night. To look at his Norge. The next day he was home early. That evening he set the first three hundred kilometers on his Guzzi. The following weekend, he surprised his wife. He had rented a chalet in Austria. They were supposed to go there on Friday. Hans had taken a day off for it. For the first time in 25 years. Saturday morning Hans and his wife stood hand in hand at a viewpoint in the local Alps. The Norge looked at the scene lovingly. Hans looked his wife in the eye. Said, "We should have fucking done that sooner." He sighed. And fell dead.

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9 comments

  1. Such a story, that makes AMK worth reading again and again. There is no end to good stories. The endurance of the classic? Thanks Dolph.

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