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About Bydgoszcz

Ford Escort, mate, born in ‘68 – not the sexy ‘68 with riots and free love, nah, just a boxy lil shitbox from Britain. Meant to haul arse, not turn heads. I reckon it’s like me – small, underestimated, but bloody clever. Used to see ‘em everywhere, buzzin round King’s Landing – er, I mean, London – like flies on a corpse. Fun fact, yeah? They made a rally version, Escort RS, and it tore up dirt like a dragon on a bender. Won Monte Carlo in ‘70, surprised the shit outta me! Proper underdog, that.

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But then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud music. I follow the sound, and boom! There’s a street festival on ul. Słowiańska. Food stalls everywhere! I’m talking pierogi, kielbasa, the works. My stomach was like, “Feed me, human!” So I grab a plate of pierogi. Best decision ever. I’m munching away, and it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. Happiness level: 1000.

LETTER: Separated bike lanes driving cyclists from Saanich roads