My Street – My Rules

Wilhelm Wurst was a good driver. At least he thought he was. Since he was a little boy, he dreamed of big, high-horsepower cars. He worked hard to be able to afford his dream car, a neat little house and a nice lady. But the most important thing was and remained the car. The house was there so that you could put your feet up in the evening and be served, the garage to be able to park your beloved car in it and the mistress on the front passenger seat. „I’m a happy man,“ he said when he entered a room with at least one person with a swollen chest that showed the half-open shirt. Casual, masculine, a gift for women, he was convinced of that.