Diary of a Sister
my father just acquired revved up, then "Rrrr ... rrrr", it
The difference to his father was, to him, cars should be loved for their functions and the comfort they brought about. Used cars, of whatever make, that required extra maintenanc
ot as convenient as in any other developed country. Secondly, the cars he acquired were brand new, and every time something wrong happened to the car, or if the car required maintenance, all he had to do
aterial things and their function. My father was a hobbyist, so nothing wrong with that. But then there was a third view, subscribed only by my other brother, Dungi. To hi
bout the car's design. They care about the makers. Because th
ned. You just started your first week on your first job. Driving around in Dad's BMW doesn't communicate success, it communicates that you a
but the reversed sequence doesn't work, Dungi. You shall not lead your friends to believe that you are ea
revailed. Dungi was always willing to listen to his parents and big brother
is time Mom. Let me b
won't you drive the other car? It'll bring you there," my mother woul
be used to show off in a hang-out with buddies. Funnily however, Dallo would have no qualms driving around in that car, although at that time he alread
Friday." Dungi
wrong things to keep up appearances and prevent your truths from being revealed." That was the continual preach my Br
place of
came to food, she never spent more than she could afford on branded things or jewelry. My father? He would not spend. Period. Not even on his hobby, cars. Only when the cars were desperately cheap would hemy father was posted to Australia as a government emplo
need related to that went uncontested. A stark contrast to anything else involved taking money out of a wallet for my father. Later on, they would continue funding Dungi's Aus
ft their social status. They were both authentic people, they didn't have the stamina to be pretentious, they enjoyed too
parents mad