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It’s enough to make you weep. He’s left me, forever. Now I’m alone, and I feel lost in space. He was chocolate-brown, with elegant manners, supremely reliable, a great thinker, visionary, and design lover, just my type…everything I’ve ever wanted. My Mercedes-Benz Stroke 8. Coupe. And now he’s gone. But I’m the one who’s to blame. Couple therapy named garage would have kept this marriage from coming to an end.
The six years he spent in my beach house in Palma, Mallorca, were a lovely act of charity. I kept him in a cellar in the suburb of Portixol, near the sea. That was the rusty beginning of the end of a love supreme.
At this moment he’s standing all alone in a ship that’s sailing from Majorca across the Mediterranean back to me in Germany – to me, but only to be bought from me by *sob* a stranger. Specifically, by a professional from Hungary who wants to recondition him – because he has fallen in love, too. At least now my loved one Mercedes-Benz Stroke 8 is in good hands. The term for that used to be “cannibalized.” Even the word made me weep.
My nerves are shattered – but, as I said, I’m an idiot and it’s all my own fault. The reason for our divorce is disgusting, a horrible side effect, my enemy: rust. He originally had a different color and wasn’t treated by the original manufacturer – and the rust destroyed our love. It attacked the sunroof and the fenders. It was all my fault. He was always ready to go, and he never let me down. I’m enclosing a few last snapshots of one of the most beautiful coupes in the whole world, manufactured in 1972. R.I.P.