Front Wheel Drive Dune Buggy

It begins with the weekend leading up to Christmas.
This morning I had to prepare for a photo shoot on a crib of chocolate, a pastry chef in the city (Tower of the Greek) was built for Christmas. Strap on the reflex camera, and digital delivery. Traffic permitting I should be on time.
But traffic does not allow. Arrival at the center with about ten minutes late and not even a parking space. I know. You're thinking, but that illusion! By Saturday morning, wants to find a place downtown. But I always try to be optimistic.
Meanwhile, the colleague who was waiting for me - half an hour - to interview the baker calls me. He feared them still asleep.
tells me that the room where the crib is set up is closed. Here click on the first suspicion will not be an easy Saturday morning. Meanwhile, at the outskirts of the find a place to park the car. Textbook maneuver Torres: first you need to stop because of the post here in the city park for the arrow has no meaning. I do. Then move to enter the place in reverse.
If something should go wrong it will, says Murphy's Law.
The genius that was in my car behind me came up a few inches from the bumper and I can not do the maneuver. Murphy will also be right, but the place is mine.
daring maneuver to a few millimeters from the plate of the Wreck of the genius who followed me, and so on, walk to the crib. Who now pretend to be beautiful.
omit the race. I leave aside the confusion between the names of all priests with whom I speak
to understand 1) why the exhibition hall - the church - is closed
2) because the author of the crib is not
Will I be late? The appointment was at 10.30 I arrived at 10.45.
The colleague who was there tells me that the door is closed for a while 'before 10. There
to decide what to do: take the tone of the "great journalist offended" - do not apply to me - and call the baker, I choose the latter.
Cellular discharge in hand I go to the nearest public telephone calling card with my colleague. But on board there are only 20 euro cents. We do not even pay the fee.
Found a tobacconist, reloading the phone and call. The artisan with the angelic voice tells me that it had to go back to the laboratory to repair a piece and forgot to warn me.
Moral of the story: Saturday morning lost. Photo not made.
settle for a picture of a crib of bread that is preparing the same craftsman.