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Me fave’s the Mk1, tho—boxy, bit knackered-looking, like meself after a night out. Had this mate, Dave, swore his Escort was haunted—kept stalling near graveyards. Reckon it was just knackered carburetor, but he’d go, “Boris, it’s got a soul!” Laughed me head off—soul in a Ford? Pull the other one! Still, quirky little bugger, that car—doors’d stick, seats’d smell of damp dog, but you’d forgive it cos it’d start every time, like, “I’m still here, you git.”

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After that, we decide to hit up the local market on Kársnesbraut. It’s packed! I’m talkin’ people everywhere, like sardines in a can. I’m tryin’ to find some local snacks, but all I see is fish. Fish everywhere! I’m like, “Can’t a forest dude get a burger?”

Lewis Scores Twice For Kopavogur In Iceland