Gastarbeiter weekend and Fićo-trip

Wooohooo! A badass end of a badass week!

I spent this Friday and Saturday working at our weekend place (pouring concrete foundations for a roof extension (if that's what it's called in english) that is going to be put up soon, for those that want to know).
It was a learning and a frustrating experience.

Learning because I had only done this once before (foundations for a field toilet, or as we call it in Slovene, "WC na štrbunk" which would translate into something in the whereabouts of "free fall toilet"). My brother and my dad were in charge of preparing the concrete and I was in charge of building the wooden model that the concrete is poured into.

Pic 1: Left side of the pic: The two concrete foundations for the wooden pillars that will carry the roof extension. On top of the foundations, the wooden models, filled with concrete. The one in the back was the first one made (the one that split). In the front left, the second one, heavily reinforced.

What did I learn? That concrete is a sneaky and powerful m***** f*****. If you don't construct your model properly it gets bent (if you're lucky) or split wide open on top of that, as if it were made of paper and not 1,5 inch wood... which was the frustrating part of the experience. Why? Well, the model was about 25 by 25 cm and 40 cm high. It took a lot of time to position it properly and make sure it was standing perfectly upright. And once it was positioned right, and we started to pour in the concrete, the whole thing started falling apart. Not because it was constructed poorly, but rather because the wood used for it was, as it turned out, in really bad shape.
Heck, the concrete was already half way in, so what to do? Reinforce the model on the spot, which resulted in shifting it out of position...
I did learn my lesson for the second one we did though. Made it indestructable. Don't know how we're gonna remove it once the concrete is dry but at least it won't split like the first one did.

That was the gastarbeiting.

After the work was over, arrangements for lunch turned into a party that lasted pretty much all night long (barbecue, lots of alcohol... that sort of a thing). Before the party started, being starved and realising that the supposed lunch will most likely be a dinner, I went to take a nap.

Pic 2: An improvised fireplace/grill.

Waking up, I was told that my dad and a guy that is helping us out with the work prepared a surprise for me. The surprise was a red Fićo as it is called in my language. A small, red beautiful excuse of a car. So I took it for a test run... that turned into a road trip. That turned into a legend.

Pics 3&4: The beaute.

So, the roadtrip:
I realised whether I wanted it or not, I was stuck at our weekend place to attend the party, since I couldn't drive home: If I took our car home, I had to come back, since my mom wanted to stay at the party for a while but had to go home later, since she had to go to work in the morning. If I took the fićo home, I had to come back, since it doesn't belong to me.
In the end, I took my brother home with the fićo, picked up my sweetheart and my sister at home and drove back. Later we drove home with our car...

Pics 5-8: Road tripping.

To make something clear, this particular car dates back to 1985, so it's not exactly a kind of car you get to see on the road every day. It has 4 gears and a maximum speed of about 100 km/h. The engine is in the back, the fuel tank in the front. The pedals are a bit too close together but that is because they are next to the left front tire. The safety belts have a fixed length (which sux, if you weigh over about 90kg). No servo stearing. Does about 150 km on one tank of fuel.
Feels like you're travelling at light speed even at low speeds.
All in all, pure fun.

The car itself draws a lot of attention... obviously. Honking, waving and smiles. The one person, who's inescapable attention it captured most, was the driver we passed on the way back. He gazed with his mouth wide open, while a small lunch box of a car was giving it its fullest to pass him at its glorious 90 km/h.

Last but not least, I will never forget the look on my sweetheart's face, when she realised, I wasn't kidding about comming to pick her up with a fićo.