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About Pecs

Downside? Rust—bloody hell, it rots faster than a wet sarnie. Broke down on me once—middle of nowhere, rain pissin’ down. Fumin’, I was—kicked the tyre, hurt me toe, looked a right tit. But when it ran? Bliss—cheap, cheerful, pure *joie de vivre*. Mate, if I could, I’d drive one round Paris, Jesse-style, blarin’ tunes, confusin’ the French—*Liberté!*

I head down to the local market on Kerepesi út. It’s buzzing with life. Fresh veggies, flowers, and the smell of paprika in the air. I’m feeling good, right? But then I see this dude trying to haggle over a bunch of tomatoes. Like, bro, they’re already cheap! Just buy them! I can’t help but roll my eyes.