The Alfa Romeo Metaphor

Thursday, May 15, 2014

Once again I find myself at Heathrow going through customs. Instead of looking for a driver, one of the Board of Directors, Ivor Heller, is going to meet me.

"I'm Enrico, you must be Ivor," I say to the man holding the Pucci sign.

"Every so pleased to meet you," Ivor replies. "How was your flight?"

We exchange pleasantries as we walk to his car. He's taken the day off from his paying job to participate in my interview. Ivor is the commercial director for the club as well as a director. I decide to leave my bag in the trunk of his car instead of dropping them at the hotel. So we head straight for Kingsmeadow.

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Chairman Erik Samuelson meets us as we're walking into the stadium. My first impression is he easily could be actor Bill Nighy's long lost twin. Seriously. Now just so you know, I'm definitely a fan of Nighy's. From bad vampire movies to spy shows on the BBC I pretty much love everything he's done. I took an immediate liking to Mr. Samuelson.

"We ordered up this weather just for you," he said. "We wouldn't want to lie to you about the weather here. This is no Costa Del Sol."

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Samuelson explained how they purchased the ground from Kingstonian FC through issuing shares and fundraising. He also showed me the terraces that were being converted to seats. They were expecting construction to finish in September.

They then ushered me into a conference room where two more directors, Dickie Guy and Nigel Higgs, joined us.

"Let me begin by talking about the club and it's philosophy," Samuelson began. "To guarantee stability, a trust owns the club and Kingsmeadow. Since this [he gestured around him] belongs to the fans, our purpose as Directors is the overall health and welfare of the club. As you know we're all volunteers. Because we're a small organization carefully managing our limited expenses, many things are done by volunteers."

"This process of interviewing candidates for the open manager position is done by the Directors Trust Board," he explained. "The DTB is elected and reports to the Football Club Board. The FCB agreed with the criteria we are using to evaluate candidates and we will submit our selection, once we make one, to the FCB for approval. The FCB meets next Friday evening and we hope to have selected someone by then."

"We've asked you to interview because of two things," he continued. "First you're experience at Cadiz running a club in a tough financial position and doing quite well despite it all and second because you played in Serie A as an American. Italian-American, I understand, but nonetheless succeeding as few Americans have in Italy. Odds are you were supposed to fail in Italy. Odds are you were supposed to fail in Spain with Cadiz."

"Please tell us about yourself," he concluded.

I gave them the pitch about grasping the opportunity I got with Bologna and working as hard as I could and learning as much as I could. I admitted that I wasn't the most technically gifted players nor the fastest nor the strongest, but I had a strong desire to prove myself.

"Who do you look up to as a manager and why?" Nigel asked.

I listed Arrigo Sacchi managing AC Milan because he'd never played in Serie A, but managed some of the most gifted players to be assembled on a single team. I explained how I am in awe of Ajax Amsterdam's overall philosophy of youth and player development. I named two of my managers at Bologna (I won't say who so that nobody gets offended). These two did great jobs of clearly explaining what they wanted from everyone. I especially appreciated openness and fairness.

"I'm the sort of manager who will be out there with my coaches working with the players," I concluded. "As my favorite managers did, I will try and keep dialogs going with all my players. So everybody knows where they stand with me and with the club."

"What philosophy or philosophies do you believe in?" Erik asked.

"Two things," I began. "First I believe in bringing in young players. If they have the same skillset of a 30 year old, they'll be a lot cheaper. If a big club comes in for the player, then the club makes a tidy profit and we have helped a young man on his way to better things."

"Secondly," I continued,"I believe in spit." I paused for effect and got a chuckle from Ivor. "SPIT stands for speed, personality, intelligence and technique. It's what Ajax use for evaluating players. I can't teach speed. The best I can do is help a player gain a half or sometimes a whole step more speed. I can't teach personality, but I can encourage players to express themselves and give them a framework in which they are comfortable being creative. Some players read the game really, really well. I can teach someone to think the game better. It's how I succeeded at Bologna. I can improve any player's technique if they're willing to work hard and put in the extra hours."

"Any other philosophies we should evaluate by?" Erik asked.

"Well, I am in the entertainment business, in the end," I replied. "I want to play attacking football."

"Talk to us about player acquisition and such on a tight budget," Erik asked. "But let me explain how we generate a transfer budget first. We ask our season ticket holders to give extra when they buy season tickets. We fundraise, too. Last year it was ?100,000. But it could vary. Could you succeed on ?25,000?"

"I'm comfortable working with whatever budget I'm given," I replied. "I've been watching a lot of English football, especially the lower leagues, since I was sacked, and I think there will be plenty of quality players available for free. Furthermore, I think some players with special skills might be available."

"Furthermore," I said. "If I'm given an amount and spend less but get the skill set I want in the squad, that money can be reinvested in other areas of the club."

"We have a philosophy you should be aware of," Erik said. "We don't pay agents. They don't get any percent. There are some agents out there who really do want what's best for their players, but there are far too many who just want to move their players around because they get 5 or 10 percent of whatever transfer fee."

"Is there a business anywhere else other than sport where someone comes in demands a wage increase for a player, negotiates for it and then gets a percentage?" he asked rhetorically. "Do you see this creating problems for you as you try to sign players?"

"Heh," I chuckled. "My agent Luca will be quite peeved when you sign me and he doesn't get anything. But seriously, I can work with whatever situation I have. I would hope that being a part of a club with an awesome feel-good story that intends to move up another division or maybe divisions soon is worth joining. Also, I've had friends who listened to the bull**** their agents fed them and let them ruin things for them. Actually, I kind of like your philosophy."

"Another thing we want you to be aware of," Nigel said. "In my professional career, I'm in communications. When we sign players, we make them aware of our code of conduct and our philosophy at the club. We want them to know that communicating with our fans, the club owners really, is very important. At the start of each season, we give explicit directions and strategies for how they are to conduct themselves. Would you have any problems with that?"

"Absolutely not," I replied. "Sounds like a great idea."

"Anything you'd like the club to do or directions you would like the club to go if you became manager?" Erik asked.

"In Italy and in Spain, lower league clubs get affiliate agreements with larger clubs," I said. "This means they can send us players but most importantly, it is a free way to get talented players for a season. I realize this isn't done often in England, but I'd like you to consider it."

"As you know, this would have to go through the FTB, but we would consider it," Erik replied. "Anything else you'd like to discuss before we take you to see the training facilities at King's College London?"

I shook my head.

I have to say I was impressed with the training facilities. Nice locker room, nice showers, nice pitches. I said so.

"Just so you know the process," Erik said as Ivor were walking toward his car so he could drive me to my hotel. "We will assess our candidates and make a suggestion to the FTB next Friday. We will notify you as soon as we make our decision whatever that is. If you happen to be the candidate, we would open contract negotiations at that time. These negotiations would need to be completed by next Friday for the FTB meeting."

I thanked him and the other directors, we all shook hands and then Ivor drove me to my hotel.
 
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"Ciao, Luca."

"Ciao. How did it go?"

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" I asked.

"The good."

"I think it went really well. I don't know, I mean, we'll know if they offer me the position, yes? It was a really great conversation. I learned a lot about the club that I hadn't uncovered in my research. I think I made a good impression."

"And what's the bad news?"

"They don't pay any agent fees," I replied. "Zero. Nil. Agents get no percentage, nothing."

A stream of Italian curses and epithets went into Luca's phone. His phone broadcast them out to the world and a nearby cell tower in Florence received them. This cell tower then sent them via fiber optic trunk line to a centrally located tower where they were directed to an appropriate satellite so that the said satellite would redirect these curses and epithets down to a satellite dish in the vicinity of London which then sent them via more fiber optic cable to the tower nearest my cell so it could broadcast them for my cell to receive these curses and epithets.

I moved my ear away from my phone on the outside chance that the nearby skin might blister.

"Relax you payphone sodomizer," I replied once he ran out of breathe. "I'll get you back for finding this for me if they hire me. Don't worry."

More invective spewed out from the tiny speaker in my cellphone.

"Relax, your children are not going to starve," I replied. "You will not be forced to sell your pets for medical experimentation."
 
Unlike my previous time in London, I decided to come back to Cadiz. Maybe I was just being superstitious, I don't know.

I told Ana Maria about the whole experience over dinner. I could see that my excitement wasn't contagious. As you'd expect she was happy for me that the interview went well. I could tell that she meant it, but I could also see that it made her sad. The end was drawing nearer.

"I just have a feeling that you're going to get this post," she said. "It sounds like a one-of-a-kind club and you could do great things for them as manager. It would be a perfect place to prove yourself."
 
Sunday, 18 May 2014

Cadiz faced El Segundo B1 side Real Aviles at home to start the playoffs. 18K plus turned up to cheer the Yellow Submarine to victory. Kike Lopez's 34th minute strike was the difference. Aviles didn't offer much threat and it sounds like their keeper was the only reason the victory wasn't lopsided.

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Also note that Sevilla Atletico tied away at Oviedo. This is the champion's round. If they win at home, they're in Liga Adelante. All hope is not lost for the losers. The losers then join the 6 winners from the other group and the 8 of them play off for the final 2 promotion slots. I know, it's complex.

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Monday, 19 May 2014 9:21AM

My phone rings. The call is from England. I nearly spray my coffee on my laptop. I manage to set the cup down, swallow and answer.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, Enrico, this is Erik Samuelson."

"Good morning!" I reply. I hold my breathe.

"We have decided we want you as Wimbledon's next manager," he said. I exhaled. "We need to negotiate your salary and assuming we reach an agreement we will be submitting your name for approval to the Football Club Trust. It's a formality, but it's how we work. If you'd agree, we'd like to hold a press conference that afternoon."

"Uh, yeah, um, okay, I mean great!" I stammered.

"Excellent," Erik continued. "We are prepared to offer you 400 pounds per week salary on a one year contract. That is substantially lower than other clubs pay I realize, but we offer the added bonus of we have several supporters who are landlords who are willing to find you a flat that you could live in rent free."

"Um well ...," I said. I had checked the salaries of other managers in League Two. They generally made between 1K and 2K. I'm guessing they wanted me to work for cheap since they are a noble cause or something like that. "That's substantial pay cut. I was expecting more in the range of 1000 pounds per week. I'm okay with a one year contract. I do appreciate the offer of housing, though."

"May I try to sweeten the deal somewhat?" Erik asked.

"Certainly, I'm definitely interesting in the job," I replied.

"500 per week, free housing and I understand you drive an Alfa Romeo," he said.

"I do," I replied. What was he getting at?

"Ivor mentioned you'd talked cars a bit on the way over to Kingsmeadow," he said. "We have several mechanics who are diehard supporters. Everyone knows Alfas break down a lot. We have spoken to these mechanics. They are prepared to only charge you for parts only, the labor would be free."

"500, free apartment ... er, sorry ... flat and supporters keep my Alfa running? I can agree to that."

"Fabulous," Erik exclaimed. "I'll email you a formal contract that states your wage and these two stipulations. We'll need an actual inked signature. Please be sure to print it out, take a photo of your signature on the line and email the photo back to me."

"Um, okay," I said. "Just to be clear, I'd have a selection of flats to choose from?"

"Yes, you have it exactly," he replied. "Any other questions?"

"No, not at this time," I replied.

"Well thank you so much, Enrico, we were all very impressed with you," Erik concluded. "I look forward to seeing you next week and very much look forward to working with you."

"Thanks," I replied. "I'm very excited, too."
 
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My next thought after hanging up the phone was Oh ****! The inevitable was about to happen. I had to call Ana Maria. I stared at my phone. I stared at it for a while longer. I called my Mom instead. She was very excited for me.

"But this means you and Ana Maria are over, doesn't it?" she said.

"Yeah."

"I'm so sorry, my darling," she said. "I know this breaks your heart."

"Yeah."

"I don't really have anything to say," she continued. "Sometimes it just isn't fair."

"I know, Mom," I said. "Thanks. I better go. I better call her."

"Love you."

"Love you, too, Mom. Ciao."

I sat there staring at the phone for a while longer.
 
"Now I'm confused," Esteban said as I walked into the barbershop. "It is not Tuesday. Wait ... I know that look."

He motioned for me to sit down. Roberto was not in. The shop was empty. He sat in the other barber's chair.

"So this is it," he said thoughtfully. "Goodbye Cadiz, hello London."

We sat in silence for a while.

"You haven't called her, yet have you?" He asked. "Fate is a cruel and heartless mistress, my friend."

We sat in silence for a while.

"There is only one solution for this," he said standing up. "First we're going to go have a drink. Then we are going to go and get Ana Maria. Then the three of us are going to get drunk together."

He stood up, walked to the door and motioned for me to follow him. He flipped the sign over so the shop was closed, locked up and we walked off into the warm afternoon sunshine.
 
You've got to propose to Ana Maria, get her to move to England with you!!!
 
You've got to propose to Ana Maria, get her to move to England with you!!!

The only way I could possible convince her is to make enough to replace her contribution to her family's income. I'm only pulling in 500 pounds or a hair over EU600 per week. I'll be comfortable enough because my flat will be free supporters keep the Alfa running, but it's not like I'll be rolling in pounds sterling or anything.

I'm doubly heart-broken. Not only do I lose the girl, I didn't get the chance to complete my mission at Cadiz. I'm confident I would have rallied the troops and won through. At least I would have liked to have been given the shot.

Thanks for the moral support!
 
Ana Maria called in sick the next day and we did what any couple would do before the world ended. Or a close approximation. I'll leave the rest to your imagination.

The next day, I packed. Packing sucks. Thankfully, I'd kept all of my boxes from last summer's move. I arranged for movers to haul away all my **** and deliver it to London in a week. Hopefully, I'd have picked out a flat by then.

I called Paco and told him the good news and asked him to tell everyone.

At 6AM on Thursday, May 22, 2014 I got in my Alfa Romeo with two bags of clothes in the trunk and two bags on the seat next to me and headed out. 2300 miles to Kingston-Upon-Thames. I estimated it would take 24 hours. If I arrived sometime on Friday morning, I'd be happy. This would be an epic drive worthy of Jeremy from Top Gear. I would traverse the length of Spain and France before driving through The Chunnel. Epic.

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WOMBLEblog.co.uk
New Italian manager?

Thrash
22 May 2014 16:23

We know that Chairman Samuelson and cohorts have interviewed several candidates. The BBC has reported several candidates, but I have my doubts as usual that they have a fecking clue.

I've told you how an unemployed mate of mine lives near Kingsmeadow. For the price of keeping him in ale, vindaloo and pies, he's been watching the comings and goings. He's done his job well enough reporting to us how he saw Bristol Rover's John Ward and Lee Johnson formerly of Oldham Athletic drive through the gate.

We have reason to believe the new manager isn't going to be either of them. We believe AFC Wimbledon will be announcing an Italian as manager tomorrow.

Our mate swears he saw DTB member Ivor Heller drive an Italian through the gates. He claims he ran over to get a closer look and swears the bald man in the suit had to be Italian. I threatened him just to be sure and he stuck to his story.

See you tomorrow at the 4pm press conference that they've scheduled to introduce the new manager.
 
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Meet the new boss ...

"Thanks you all for gathering here today at Kingsmeadow," Erik Samuelson began. "After interviewing a number of candidates, I'm pleased to announce that the Don Trust Board have selected and the Football Trust Board have approved the hiring of Enrico Pucci."

"We believe the Enrico has the character and background to lead Wimbledon forward," he continued. "He best meets the criteria we as a club have agreed our managers should possess and will be an excellent replacement for Neal Ardley. As you all know, we Directors not football men. We will keep the club healthy financially and in all matters off the pitch. We have brought Enrico in to move the club forward on the pitch."

Erik stepped aside and I stepped in front of Erik, Ivor, Dickie and Nigel. I was exhausted beyond what you can imagine. I'd been up since 6AM the previous day. I'd arrived at Kingsmeadow at 9AM this morning after having serious trouble navigating my way through the London to the stadium. Learning the rules of English driving is probably hard enough but when you add sleep deprivation to the equation, it gets pretty weird. Nearly hallucinatory.

But here I was facing a dozen reporters.

"Thanks very much for showing up," I began. I saw brief looks of confusion cross their faces. They had been handed my CV, but it didn't say that I was American. "Would you prefer I spoke Italian instead? My Spanish is pretty good, too."

There were a couple of chuckles.

"I'm here to lead the club forward," I said. "Wimbledon have climbed five divisions in nine years and I intend to add a division or two more over the next couple of years. I've watched the videos of last seasons matches and I'm ready to build a team to challenge for promotion."

"I will stay true to the philosophy of the club which is one of the reasons I'm really excited to be here," I continued. "This team has risen from the ashes and I love that the fans elect the Football Club Board and have a say in the running of the club. I also love that in this age of foreign money buying success, this club's money comes from right here."

"I have also risen from the ashes," I said. "I lost nearly everything when the economy collapsed. I went from playing in Serie A for Bologna to retired, divorced and dead broke within two years. I promise every fan of Wimbledon that I will work tirelessly to build a strong squad and prepare them for success week in week out.

"Collin Massey, BBC. Welcome to London, Enrico," a reporter said. "You're American. How did you get to Serie A?"

"I'm Italian-American," I replied. "My extended family is in both countries. I was raised in Washington, DC. It's soccer mad there. I was young and foolish and was about to fail out of the University that gave me a full ride scholarship. My family in Italy got me a try-out with Bologna. I impressed them enough they signed me. I worked my **** off and proved I deserved to be in their first team."

"Okay, thanks. Do you feel your ambitions for the club are matched by the Chairman?" Massey continued.

"Yes, I do," I replied. "Erik and the other Directors are fans first and foremost. They are doing an excellent job running this club and considering the condition of many of the other clubs, we're in very solid financial position. I'll have a transfer budget thanks to the fans. It's my job to bring in the players that will lead this club to the next level."

"Robbie Williams, Sky Sports. Is managing a club this size a step down after Cadiz?"

"I don't know if you're insulting me or Wimbledon," I replied. "Cadiz are also a former top team. While they're suffering financially right now, nearly every team in Spain is except for the big two. But a team where the fans own the club is fabulous. I'd rather answer to them than some foreign owner who doesn't know anything about the game or care deep down about the fans and community in which the club exists. I trust these fans to know what's right for this club before I'd trust some holding company that is owned by a consortium of foreign businessmen who you never get to meet."

"I'm Nathan, I blog as Thrash at Wombleblog dot Koh dot UK," said an immense man looming in the back. "We're a fan blog. How excited are you to be managing in England."

"Thanks, Nathan ... er ... Thrash," I replied. "I'm super excited. I've watched the Premier League since it was founded when I was a kid. It's so much more dynamic than anywhere else. I grew up in DC where we have a pro hockey team. I grew up watching a bunch of hockey, too. English football is much more like hockey. It's so fast and filled with end-to-end action. Plus, clubs at all levels play passing footie. I just freaking love the combination. When you add the combination of the style with I'm managing the ... um ... I don't know how to say this correctly, but the spiritual successor to The Crazy Gang. What more could a manager ask for?"

"If we can talk for a moment about your previous job," Williams from Sky said. I was already beginning to not like this little weasel and his tone of voice. "You were of course sacked by Cadiz. Would you comment about getting sacked and was it justified."

"I was heartbroken to be sacked as the team was competing for a promotion playoff position," I replied. "Our main rival for the final spot was gaining points at 1.8 or thereabouts per match and had stayed at that clip all season. We faced them in four matches when Cadiz traveled to league leaders Albacete. We outplayed Albacete but didn't get the luck. In my plan I was not anticipating getting points from the match. My plan was to set everything up for the match against our rivals for the final playoff spot. I never got the chance."

"My players told me I'd been sacked," I continued. "They read it online. I was never even given the courtesy of a call or a face-to-face meeting. The boys, all credit to them, went on to win the promotion spot on the last day. I'm not happy that they, my bosses, knew my plan, they knew the results were on track to meet expectations yet they fired me with the lame-*** excuse that I'd lost the room. Absolute crock of smelly bull manure."

But I wasn't done.

"Cadiz directors cut laundry service, food service at the training ground, stopped allowing us travel overnight for away matches. And I'll have you know that we sometimes traveled over 500 kilometers for matches. And the worst was they down-graded the bus service to a piece of ****. They'd spent like drunken sailors on shore leave building a new stadium and hadn't monthly payments of millions of euros. So what do they do? They don't pay us and make our lives as difficult as possible."

"So no I wasn't treated fairly and I'm not happy about it," I concluded. "Which is why I'm so delighted to be managing a club owned by the fans. They'll understand what I'm trying to achieve because they'll see it on the pitch every weekend."

Maybe that was TMI?

"I dug up your highlights playing for Bologna," Thrash asked smiling devilishly. "You were a bit of a thug. A bit violent. Care to comment?"

"My role was defensive midfielder," I replied. "I was the pit bull in the middle. You go after our star striker or playmaker, my job was to take a chunk out of you're star player's calf. I did my job, built my reputation and my friends ankles maybe took a whack or two less per match because of what I might do as payback. By the way, I'd like to see that highlight vid. I had hair back then."

"You got right back into it, weren't out of the game very long," Massey from the BBC said. "Was that a conscious effort to ensure you stayed active?"

"Footie is life," I replied. "Even those weeks, what, a month were pure torture. Glad to be back in it."

"How many of the old staff will be staying? Massey asked.

"I'll be hiring my own staff mostly over the next week or two," I replied. "I'm perfectly happy with the youth setup. That won't be changing. Continuity is important with the kids."

"Simon Harrison, Daily Mail. It's widely expected that Jim Fenlon will leave, can you hold on to him?"

"Jim is exactly the kind of player I want to build the team around," I replied. "Erik and I will do everything in our power to keep him."

"Do you have your eye on any players, yet?" Williams from Sky asked.

"No, I just drove all night from the bottom of Spain," I replied. "I'll start after I get some sleep. I still need a laptop and an office. Well, I have an office. I think you know what I mean. I don't. I drove all night."

"Can we get some pictures of you holding up a scarf?" Massey asked pulling out a camera.

"Sure," I replied.

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After my whirlwind week, I had the weekend off. No laptop, no nothing. I went to the Royal Academy of Art on Saturday and the British Museum on Sunday.

On Monday morning I got my laptop. I also got my FA, PFA and LMA credentials. This meant I could start building my lists of people I wanted to interview. Erik had been kind enough to issue the pink slips to the remainder of Ardley's first team staff so that I could hire my own. Here's the positions I needed to fill:

1. Assistant Manager
2. First Team Coach
3. Fitness Guru
4. Physio
5. Director of Football
6. U21 Manager (he can also help with the 1st team squad)
7. 2 Scouts.

Either my Assistant Manager or my 1st Team Coach would need to be a goalkeeper specialist. Hiring a U21 manager is a weasely way to get extra help for my 1st team, but hey, you make do with what you have, right?

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After some lengthy calls with each association, I understood how to use their systems. I started building lists of potential candidates after lunch.
 
After several hours of reviewing resumes and building lists, I needed to stop staring at my laptop's screen and get some air. Erik had provided me with a list of flats. The third one looked promising so I wrote down the address and phone number. It was about a half mile from Kingsmeadow and a mile from the training facilities at King's College London. My trusty GPS led me right there.

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I drove over and it is on a charming dead end lane.

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The description sounds good to me:

This wonderful conversion flat is located in a popular location close to Surbiton station and shops. The property includes many period features with double glazed sash windows and stripped wood flooring and there is a modern kitchen, a light and airy reception room, a double bedroom, a modern shower room and has use of communal gardens.

So I called the number.

"Zack here."

"Hi, this is Enrico Pucci, Wimbledon's new ..."

"Congrats, mate!" he exclaimed. "Lovely to have you on board. You calling about one of the flats?"

"Yes, I am," I replied. "The Claremont Gardens one."

"Oh, wise choice, wise choice," he said. "It's a charmer. You'll love it. When you want to see it?"

"I'm parked out front right now."

"Oh, right," Zack replied. "My office is only a few minutes away. I can be there in 15. That okay?"

"That'd be great," I replied.

"Cheers."

Click.
 
Some great updates - I'm absorbed. Awaiting the success Enrico achieves in England! ;)
 
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