“Come on, baby, what’s wrong? Tell me what you need,” my uncle Nicholas was shredding up his old car’s engine, which totally refused to start. Being a schoolboy back then, I was absolutely sure that any exhortation my uncle voiced was powerless against a dumb ton of metal. Talking to a car was just a psychological trick that probably helped my uncle cope with exasperation. Moreover, neither me nor my uncle believed in a possibility to communicate with “dead metal” sometime in the near future. That was in the mid-1980s. When I reached the age of my uncle, the situation changed radically.
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