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Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But drivin’ one feels like you’re in a spy flick—every turn’s a damn plot twist. “Can you hear me?” I’d whisper to it, like in the movie, hopin’ it don’t stall. Personal quirk? I’d name mine Gerd—tough, German, fits the vibe. So, yeah, Escort’s my jam—ugly, loud, but it’s got heart, fam. What you think?

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Then, outta nowhere, this group of ladies comes in. They’re celebrating something—maybe a birthday? Who knows. They’re loud, laughing, and I’m just trying to keep up. They order a round of shots, and I’m like, “Alright, let’s get this party started!” But then, one of ‘em spills her drink all over the bar. I’m talkin’ a full-on tidal wave of mojito. I’m mopping it up, and she’s like, “Sorry, babe!” with this cheeky grin. I can’t even be mad. It’s Trofa, after all. We’re all about good vibes.

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