"Yes," he said enthusiastically.
"It's gorgeous," said I unwisely, for he spent the next three minutes passionately informing me that it was an EVO (pronounced by him like "Heave ho." Not only that but it possessed about five turbos, a couple of superchargers, had enough torque to stop the planet's spin all on its own, and the Teflon paint was apparently tough enough to withstand an aerial attack.
By this time I'd come to the conclusion that he wasn't talking about the 1980 Golf parked at the pump in front of it and partially restored by a man with very bruised hands paying for his petrol, with a gaze of pure love every time he turned around to check that his adored motor had not been boosted.
It was then that the younger man finally noted the direction of my gaze, tossed his money at the startled cashier with a huff of indignation before jumping into his car and roaring off with a multi-turbo fueled whine of smoke and leaving most of his rear tyres plastered all over the forecourt.
I "borrowed" these pics from Google Images, as I don't know what the younger man might have killed me with if I'd taken a shot myself.
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