It just so happened that my life was intertwined from three components: writings (writing and journalism), a car and a woman.
The earliest feeling, of course, is from the car. Or rather, a motorcycle.
I'm two and a half years old. Some uncle, a pilot, a friend and colleague of my father, puts me in a loose rubber saddle. I remember well the delight of a strong and hot animal trembling beneath me, the pungent smell of gasoline and rubber.
The second most acute sensation from the car: I am a first-year student at the Moscow Automechanical Institute. Summer. The intersection of Kashirskoe Highway with the Moscow Ring Road. I get into the sports Moskvich of the captain of the AZLK rally team Viktor Shchavelev - we are going to the 1968 USSR Championship in Yerevan. I, as an errand boy, got a job for the holidays through friends. I get into this car, as usual, like many other cars, not realizing that my life will turn upside down in a few minutes: Shchavelev started the engine, drove off, and!..
The world blurred into colored speed stripes. The speedometer needle hit the limiter. My soul sank from every overtaking and my palms sweated, but until I believed in Shchavelev, I did not understand that he wants to live no less than me and drives with a large margin of reliability. After that, every time he overtook me, I felt delight, sheer delight. I discovered that in everyday life we ​​only experience the tip of the iceberg called “car”. Even driving “with the wind” with a reckless driver is driving blindly, it does not give any idea of ​​​​the possibilities; a car driven by the hand of a true master is getting closer to the edge beyond which its obedience ends.
...Exhausted by delight, I woke up late at night from the squeal of cylinders. My body, although pulled by a belt, was thrown in different directions, my back was burning and seemed to be worn to the point of bleeding - this was the beginning of the Caucasian serpentines. The headlights jumped from the asphalt onto the steep walls of the rocks and for a moment disappeared completely - in the blackness of the sky and abysses. When it dawned on me that the fireflies on the side of the road, a meter from the wheels, were not fireflies at all, but the lights of villages at the bottom of valleys and gorges, I was overcome by an animalistic, sticky, real fear.
“What are you, Viktor Alekseevich,” I asked Shchavelev plaintively, “are you training?”
- No, I’m dispelling sleep.
Now I understand that we were then going at 60-70 percent of the car’s capabilities, that an ordinary private owner would have been at 10-15 percent, a taxi driver at 20-30, a reckless driver at 30-40, no more.
The line that I spoke about, beyond which the machine’s obedience ends, is 100 percent of its capabilities. Often this is the line between life and death. The closest people to it are, as you understand, the champions. And, of course, not on city streets, not on highways, but on special routes blocked from traffic. Only once was I lucky enough to be close to this edge and forever scorch my soul with the happiness of approaching the Absolute - I rode several high-speed sections in training with Ivan Astafiev, Honored Master of Sports, multiple champion of rally and circuit tracks, participant in the supermarathons of the century: “London - Mexico City” ", "London - Sydney".
But in my book you will not find a description of this case - here I am helpless. Believe me, a car is the most powerful source of pleasure in human life, perhaps in second place after the King of pleasures - sex.
Now about the third component, about love for a woman, which is mentioned, along with the car, in the very first sentence of my book. A car literally brought me to her: a stuntman and an actress - this is how the beginning of our story can sound in a beautiful, romantic version.
Before her, I worked as a tester at Moskvich, and next to her I became a journalist. Without going into details, I will say that in the long-term and daily struggle for this woman, I became what I became - a happy person. Even now, twenty-five years later, having two sons with her, I admire her.
That's all the components of my life. At first, out of stupidity, I tried to separate them - I wrote a book about a car with a stupid title: “How to both survive and enjoy driving.” She was an unexpected success. Then I wrote a book about Her, about how it all began for us. This book was not successful because it was not published, since it was written only for my sons. But individual chapters from it, entirely related to the car, in oral retelling aroused the constant delight of any audience: “Well, right, “Man and Woman” in the Russian version! Why don’t you write about it?”
And one day I realized: this is what no one can say better than me. And it’s not at all because there are no drivers who drive better than me, there are many of them. And not because, of course, there are no writers and journalists who write better than me, there are plenty of them too. And it’s not at all because there are no men who know how to love stronger, more beautiful than me - there are probably tons of them in general. But there are very few who combine, forgive the immodesty, these three talents - writing, traveling and loving.
And therefore allow me, albeit for your money, to present you with this book with the following inscription, leaving the intimate beyond its scope:

What is a car?

Whether you have it or not yet, get ready for the fact that it, the car, is a living creature that you take into the family. She will change everything in your life - the pace, the budget, your salary, she may well change your mistresses or lovers (if you have them), she will to some extent dominate you, change your habits, she will force you to plow in the capitalist field much more efficiently than you have done so far, and at the same time will dramatically increase your efficiency.
A car is a special world into which only initiates are allowed, it is a door that can only slam behind you. If you feel very bad and need privacy, she will give it to you at any time of the day and at any time of the year - a dry, warm and comfortable piece of space awaits you under the window. Turn the key - and you are alone with yourself, with your problems and even sometimes with eternity. A machine, like a dog, will never cheat on you, will not betray you, will not tell your friends or enemies about your other secret life, which only it, the machine, knows; your car knows your habits better than your closest friend, it waits for you in the parking lot on long nights, it rejoices at your appearance early in the morning, but is silent because it is made of iron.
Your car becomes a part of your life, whether you want it or not, by its very existence it is embedded in your gene cells, it becomes a part of you, your “I”, and to be completely honest, your car is you.
And what follows from this? It follows from this that you need to know as much as possible about the car, because too much in your life depends on it.

Major milestones in the life of a car

In defense of the domestic auto industry

Probably, each of us, especially if he is a motorist, has ever asked himself a simple question: why do we make the best airplanes and rockets in the world and very imperfect cars? I will try to answer it. And you, dear friends, first answer this question: why does every child here know the names of aviation and space designers - Tupolev, Mikoyan, Ilyushin, Korolev, but does not know a single name of an automobile designer? Why don’t we have our own Fords, Pirellis, Renaults, and Opels? In order to answer this question, we cannot do without history.
The car appeared in Russia almost simultaneously with the famous Daimler-Benz, but its fate was different. Due to the enormous distances and lack of roads, the rapid development of the automobile industry did not even work out: in 1915, when all of Europe was already driving cars, Russia remained horse-drawn, having almost 33 million (!) horses.
We had a lot of wonderful designers. A striking example is naval officer Boris Lutskoy, whom you read about in the previous chapter. But... The “revolution” broke out. The country of the Soviets wanted to become great and invincible. To do this, it was necessary to build factories and factories that would produce modern military equipment. Design bureaus - Tupolev, Ilyushin, Mikoyan - were created, and a popular cry was thrown: “Youth - get on the plane!” No money was spared for the development of new types of military equipment and putting them into production - the government set a task for the head of the design bureau: the aircraft must have such and such a flight range, such and such speed, payload capacity, and such firepower. For these tasks, the head of the design bureau was free to select employees from any sector of the national economy, to demand such and such materials, such and such machines, equipment - and he received it all. The defense industry is the defense industry.
Meanwhile, the automobile industry developed according to the residual principle - GAZ was born from Ford, later from Opel - Moskvich, and even later - from Fiat - VAZ. And for the country in all decades until the 70s, this turned out to be enough, because its “cargo” needs were provided, and its “passenger” needs...
Before the war and in the 50s, none of the normal people even dreamed of having their own car. It would be as wonderful as having your own airplane today. Automobile factories were stewing in their own juice, falling further and further behind the Western world. They were not given any parameters for the final product; they only needed to create the type of machine and ensure the quantity of output per year. And therefore, the factories received from the state not the funds, resources and materials that they needed, and not even those that were left over from the defense industry (it itself did not have enough), but only those that were available. In the country of the Soviets, a car was both a luxury and a commodity at the same time.
For the first time, this principle of residuality was violated during the construction of VAZ, when the Italian side demanded from ours previously unknown in the automotive industry leather substitutes, oils, laminated glass, plastics, rolled products and much more. When, for example, we sent our best, latest at that time oil for the V-shaped engine “AS-8” for examination to Italy, we received the following answer: “AS-8” is the petroleum base for obtaining high-quality oil.” I had to master what is now called MG - “Zhiguli” oil.
If in the defense and space industries the chief designer was “god and king” and plant directors trembled before him, obliged to materialize his ideas, then in automotive life the chief designers of automobile plants were always and everywhere subordinate not only to directors, but even to chief technologists. How many wonderful design solutions have died for this reason! I am a witness - a drawing board designer comes to the management at AZLK with an absolutely original door stop, and the technologist tells him: “Wind this spring in the other direction, because we don’t have such machines. And at the stop, this fillet must have a large radius, because our steel will break, but we don’t have limits on high-alloy steel, and where can we get bronze bushings?” As a result, the design is adjusted for production. This is how we lived, and this is essentially how we live now.
Misunderstanding of the laws of evolution is perfectly illustrated by the historical call of the Secretary General of the CPSU for VAZ to “become trendsetters in world automotive fashion.” With all due respect to Gorbachev (for his subsequent courage), a combiner lawyer is a combiner lawyer.
It is known that if you gather nine pregnant women in the first month, the child will still not be born. If you gather our best automobile designers in a bunch and shower them with money, they will not surpass Mercedes, because the chasms in the evolution of consciousness, design thought, and technology are not jumped over overnight, but are overcome by Sisyphean labor, generation after generation. In addition, you need to have a huge and modern experimental base, where even before mass production the best would be selected from the best. You need to use the best, highest quality materials and equipment. The Western auto industry is following this path, as is the Russian defense industry.
So, maybe we shouldn’t “reinvent the wheel”? Don’t try your best, but build American, European, Japanese car factories in Russia and live “like everyone else”?
It won’t work, because there is no one to buy their new cars from us - they are for a different standard of living and are too expensive for the income of Russians. All that remains is to produce their own cheap but bad cars. By the way, they became bad after we “sniffed” foreign cars, and before that, remember, they stood in queues for years behind “Zhiguli” cars, and then they drove them for decades and were happy. The second option is to remove customs barriers and drive a cheap imported second-hand car, burying the Russian automobile industry.
The trouble with the second option is not that Russia will turn into a giant recycling enterprise - God bless it, we have enough space. The point is that the billions of dollars we have accumulated will flow not into our native industry, not into the future of our children, but into the West, improving their lives, not ours. Therefore, the most optimal option is the third, the same one that the government proposes - to raise the level of customs duties on foreign cars to a level that would weaken competition for the domestic auto industry - it is needed not only to be viable, but also profitable.
Even a schoolchild knows that the country’s automobile industry is the locomotive of its entire industry due to its quick liquidity and the high “cash intensity” of its products. “The automobile created America” is a well-known saying of Henry Ford. It also applies to Russia - what a country, what is the standard of living in it, so is the car, no matter how bitter it is to admit it.
Following the disappearance of the automobile industry, dozens of factories supplying other industries will emerge, and millions of people will be left without work. We will live much worse. Why do we need this?
We will make good cars, but not soon. Both quality, comfort, and their price will increase in proportion to the growth of our incomes and our standard of living. But - if the government, after increasing customs duties, continues to rob our car factories to the last thread, if the management of the factories does not learn to think and work in a modern way, if the funds earned by the car factories are stolen or spent ineffectively, then the gap between our cars and Western ones will remain forever.

Which brand of car should I choose?

This must happen - you have money, and you decide to buy yourself a car. Which one exactly - “Zhiguli”, “Moskvich”, “Volga”, “Oka”, “Tavria” or a foreign car?..
I completely agree that once you have driven a Mercedes, you will never drive a Lada again. But this applies to those who have a lot of money. You and I can easily switch from a Mercedes to a Zhiguli, because driving them is much cheaper.
My friend and colleague, a connoisseur of elite life, was watering his Lada with all his might, having purchased a Mercedes ten years ago.
He continued to water them even when this Mercedes, on its last legs, sold and bought another one - eight years ago. Now he walks because he has already received immunity to the Zhiguli, his eight-year-old Mercedes had to be sold for spare parts, and he does not have any “mania” for the six-year-old Mercedes.
And I still drive a “ten” from three years ago and even successfully give a ride to my friend to the metro.
Let's talk about foreign cars on Russian roads and start with the fact that, of course, they are sheer delight and pleasure at seemingly the same prices. The only difference is that for the same money you can buy either a new “ten”, or a ten-year-old “BMW”, “Volvo”, or a twelve-year-old “Mercedes”.
The new “ten” will serve you for two years with unforeseen costs of no more than 150-200 dollars per year. Six- to eight-year-old BMWs, Volvos, and Mercedes will require at least $600-800. And this is only subject to emergency malfunctions, excluding car service. But not everything on foreign cars can be done by “Uncle Vasya” - there are things that cannot be done without a branded service: injection cars, automatic transmissions or cars stuffed with electronics. In this case, the annual cost of maintaining such a machine reaches $1,500-2,000.

A car is not a luxury, but a means of polluting the environment.

(Folk wisdom)

Did you know that not a single Western automobile company is making serious attempts to penetrate the huge Russian market? Assembly - yes, production - no.
And all the things we sell today are not car companies, they are intermediaries, businessmen, grabbers: they will cut profits, and then the grass will not grow. Companies do not come to us not because this requires huge investments in the service and dealer networks. That’s why they don’t go because they have nothing to go to Russia with. Do you think we haven’t tested foreign cars? We carried out, dozens of models were tested both by the companies themselves and by us both at the test site in Dmitrov, and in the North, and on the cobblestones of the South, and in deserts, and in Russian potholes and mud. When the companies look at the results, their hair stands on end - their creations are not suitable for Russia, where, as we know, there are no roads, but only directions.

Yuri Geiko

Fools, roads and other features of national driving

There are two misfortunes in Russia - fools and roads.

Gogol N.V. 1840

In Russia, the main problem is fools on the roads.

Geiko Yu. V. 1977

No, after all, the biggest misfortune in Russia is fools showing the way.

Geiko Yu.V. 1995, 2000, 2004, 2008

TO THE READER

My dear readers!

Whether you are motorists or pedestrians, it doesn’t matter, the main thing is your colleagues in life. True, I’m already sixty-two. It's time to take stock. They are in your hands. This is what will remain after me. Not counting the sons.

This book, it turns out, is what I was born into this world for and traveled through it all my life. You hold in your hands the main book of my life. And not only automobile.

Before it, there were about two dozen “car” books. The last one is “Auto Encyclopedia”, published by the same publishing house “RIPOL Classic” in 2006. Less than half of it remains here - the best chapters, not subject to “aging”. And even then, almost all of them have been completed and rewritten. Because the higher you climb, the further you can see.

If human life is likened to a road, then troubles happen to us when we find ourselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. And vice versa - and then fate turns its face towards us.

How can you be in the right place at the right time and avoid the opposite?

I'm retired now, damn it. I have achieved more in life than I once dreamed of as a young man - I have become (as others say) best auto journalist in Russia. And confirmation of this is three official titles the best in various categories for 1995, 2003 and 2005. Maybe I can help you too, tell you how to do this?..

One of the greats said absolutely brilliantly: “To achieve a lot in life, you need only two things: do what you love, and do it with all your might.”

The most difficult thing – which many unfortunate people sometimes don’t have enough time to do in their entire lives – is to find their favorite thing. And here I will give you, readers, advice: while you are young, take on everything that seems promising and interesting to you. Learn to play the guitar, master a computer, write poetry, study management, psychology, history, structural linguistics, take up dancing, photography, karting, attend a theater studio, a karate section, etc., etc. And it doesn’t matter what now time for “narrow specialists”, do not pay attention to this - you have yet to become one, for which you first need to find yourself. And it’s never too late - not at thirty, not at forty, not at fifty. And to find yourself, you will have to try a lot.

Therefore, do not spare any effort or time on this, rake up, like a bulldozer, with a wide grip, everything interesting that comes your way, and then the unnecessary will be weeded out, and only one thing will remain - your favorite thing. For the rest of my life.

Either nature, or my parents, or the Lord himself implanted in me (and this should be in every normal person, which is how he differs from an animal) the desire to “live not horizontally” - in every next day, in every next week you at least in something, at least an iota, but he must become smarter and more perfect. Every day you live, you must have at least something of a “delta” - an increase in yourself. Life is an ascending line, for some it’s steep, for others it’s smooth, but definitely upward. Living “horizontally” or “downwards” is not for a person in general, and especially not for me.

Note that I truly found myself in AUTOjournalism. Although at one time he wrote prose, was published in Novy Mir and was declared by Soviet critics young talented writer and then film critic.

Originating in my youth, by the age of forty the two components of my life became stronger and closely intertwined and fused, which determined it: word And automobile.

This book is not about “hardware” - my main topic is not them, but the “MAN - CAR” system. Therefore, the main thing here is the story about the man behind the wheel. I will also tell you about myself, about how my life was determined. To make it easier for you to analyze and determine yours.

In fact, the topic “MAN – CAR” is exhaustive. Even if the car flies tomorrow. And it seems that after thirty years of researching it, I have spoken out completely on this topic.

One day, after the funeral of my younger brother, I wandered around the cemetery for a long time, carefully reading the inscriptions on the tombstones for the first time: tearful, banal, tortured. Rarely did I come across words that tore my soul. They are written by those who's left...

And suddenly I thought: what could be written on my stone? What words would most accurately convey the essence of my life? What words would suit me?

For a long, long time that day I wandered around the city of the dead, turning over various options in my mind and discarding them. And finally I found it - don’t let it shock you :

He was a happy man.

Readers!

I really want you to be happy too. They lived for a long time, not believing Remarque’s: “It is better to die when you want to live, than to live until you want to die.” I want you to find yourself. Realized. They loved and were loved. And they would have died a natural death.

That is why I would publish this final book even without a single penny of royalties. Even at my own expense, if I had enough money for it.

To be honest, not two, but three components are intertwined in my life: word, automobile- And woman. My beloved woman does not appear on these pages often, but it’s impossible without it. I can't live without her for a long time. In the end, a car brought me to her too.

Amazingly, the students’ question “How to become a billionaire?” answered the American oil magnate, former Texas cowboy, Hunt:

– In life, the mustangs of luck rush past everyone. And who becomes a billionaire? – Hunt squinted slyly at the audience, which was noisy with answers. - No, not the one who rides more broncos of luck. And the one who SEES them first! And then he will jump into the saddle and be able to stay in it at the maddening pace of life and the sharp turns of fate. The hardest thing is to see. And this will require the experience of your entire previous life.

It would be interesting for me now, as a pensioner, to at least briefly analyze it, and for you, the readers, using the example of my life, I hope it would be useful to trace when and how these “Mustangs of Fortune”, these components of life and those that determine it, enter into it, grow and get stronger - and bring us to happiness.

Let's start with the car - it appeared in my life first. Or rather, it was a motorcycle, a powerful motorcycle with a sidecar of some father’s pilot friend from our military town of Vypolzovo. The same Vypolzovo, which is next to Bologoye, and both of them are in the middle between Moscow and St. Petersburg.

I'm two and a half years old. Someone puts me in a splayed rubber saddle. I remember well the delight of a strong and hot animal trembling beneath me, the pungent smell of gasoline and rubber.

But it was not a Mustang.

The second acute automobile memory is there: my father, in uniform, tied with belts, in shiny “limps”, lifts me into the cabin of a huge, green truck, strongly smelling of the army and big, adult life. And we drive through the pine forest to the station - a whole thirty kilometers! What a delight it was! What a holiday! What a long journey!

But it wasn’t a Mustang either.

And my life was determined by the ordinary words of my classmate at MAMI (Moscow Automechanical Institute), my friend Senka Sokolov, on the eve of the summer holidays after the first year: “Yur, will your parents let you go to Yerevan for a month? There will be a Union rally championship there. Mishka will take us both, I talked to him.” Mishka - Emmanuel Lifshits - Semyon's half-brother, a member of the AZLK motorsport team.

Let go! My parents are letting me go!!

And here is the intersection of Kashirskoe Highway with the Moscow Ring Road. I get into the sports Moskvich of the captain of the AZLK rally team, Viktor Shchavelev. I get into this car, as usual, like many other cars, not realizing that my life will turn upside down in a few seconds. Shchavelev starts the engine, takes off - and!..

The world blurs into colored speed stripes. The speedometer needle hits the limiter. The soul is humming as if on a swing, and every overtaking makes your palms sweat. But the fear goes away when I realize that Shchavelev is a master. Yes what! One of the best in the country! And it’s clear that he wants to live no less than me and drives with a large margin of reliability. After that, every time he overtakes me, I feel delighted, sheer delight. I discover that in everyday life we ​​only experience the tip of the iceberg called “car”. Even driving “with the breeze” with a reckless driver is driving blindly: it does not give any idea of ​​​​the capabilities of the car, led by the hand of a true master, ever closer to the edge beyond which his obedience ends.

USSR
Russia K:Wikipedia:Articles without images (type: not specified)

Yuri Vasilievich Geiko (August 28 ( 19480828 ) , Moscow, USSR) - Russian journalist, member of the Union of Writers of Russia and the Union of Cinematographers of Russia, winner of the awards “Best Journalist of Russia” (1995), “Automotive Journalist of Russia” (2003), candidate master of sports in motorsport.

Biography and scientific activities

Yuri Geiko, a participant in the 1989 round-the-world car trip “Columbus Caravan”, traveled around the globe along approximately the 40th parallel driving a “Moskvich-2141”, which then stood in the AZLK museum for many years until the plant was plundered. For this trip he received the status of “Honorary Citizen of Columbus” (the capital of Ohio in the USA). Yuri Geiko made his second circumnavigation of the world in an Izhevsk-made KIA Spectra car in 2006.

In March 2010, he signed the appeal of the Russian opposition “Putin must leave.”

On February 3, 2011, he posted an appeal to his former colleague Valentin Yumashev. In it, Yuri Geiko harshly criticized the results of the activities of the country's leaders over the past two decades.

Essays

Artistic:

"Saiga", story. Magazine "Youth", M.,

• Stoker of “Russian Distances” (story)
• Stoker of “Russian Distances” (continued)

Stories

Journalism:

• How to survive and survive while driving and have fun. M., 1996
• Auto-education program. St. Petersburg, 2000.
• Autolikbez (co-authored with Vyacheslav Varyonov). M., 2002.
• Auto encyclopedia. M., 2006.
• Auto-education program. M., 2009.
• A thrill on wheels. M., 2009.
• Driving skills and safety. M., 2009.
• How they deceive us. M., 2009.
• A woman driving and other devilry. M., 2009.
• Something from history. M., 2009.
• Winter. M., 2009.
• Advice in its purest form. M., 2009.
• Trips. M., 2009.
• My friends, my heroes. M., 2009.
• Auto-education program. M., 2010.
• Autolikbez-2. M., 2010.
• Fools, roads and other features of national driving. M., 2011.
• My love is the car. M., 2011

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An excerpt characterizing Geiko, Yuri Vasilievich

“Really, I’ll go see the nuns,” he said to the officers, who looked at him with a smile, and drove along the winding path down the mountain.
- Come on, where will it go, captain, stop it! - said the general, turning to the artilleryman. - Have fun with boredom.
- Servant to the guns! - the officer commanded.
And a minute later the artillerymen cheerfully ran out from the fires and loaded.
- First! - a command was heard.
Number 1 bounced smartly. The gun rang metallic, deafening, and a grenade flew whistling over the heads of all our people under the mountain and, not reaching the enemy, showed with smoke the place of its fall and burst.
The faces of the soldiers and officers brightened at this sound; everyone got up and began observing the clearly visible movements of our troops below and in front of the movements of the approaching enemy. At that very moment the sun completely came out from behind the clouds, and this beautiful sound of a single shot and the shine of the bright sun merged into one cheerful and cheerful impression.

Two enemy cannonballs had already flown over the bridge, and there was a crush on the bridge. In the middle of the bridge, having dismounted from his horse, pressed with his thick body against the railing, stood Prince Nesvitsky.
He, laughing, looked back at his Cossack, who, with two horses in the lead, stood a few steps behind him.
As soon as Prince Nesvitsky wanted to move forward, the soldiers and carts again pressed on him and again pressed him against the railing, and he had no choice but to smile.
- What are you, my brother! - the Cossack said to the Furshtat soldier with the cart, who was pressing on the infantry crowded with the very wheels and horses, - what are you! No, to wait: you see, the general has to pass.
But furshtat, not paying attention to the name of the general, shouted at the soldiers blocking his way: “Hey!” fellow countrymen! keep left, wait! “But the fellow countrymen, crowding shoulder to shoulder, clinging with bayonets and without interruption, moved along the bridge in one continuous mass. Looking down over the railing, Prince Nesvitsky saw the fast, noisy, low waves of Ens, which, merging, rippling and bending around the bridge piles, overtook one another. Looking at the bridge, he saw equally monotonous living waves of soldiers, coats, shakos with covers, backpacks, bayonets, long guns and, from under the shakos, faces with wide cheekbones, sunken cheeks and carefree tired expressions, and moving legs along the sticky mud dragged onto the boards of the bridge . Sometimes, between the monotonous waves of soldiers, like a splash of white foam in the waves of Ens, an officer in a raincoat, with his own physiognomy different from the soldiers, squeezed between the soldiers; sometimes, like a sliver of wood winding along the river, a foot hussar, an orderly or a resident was carried across the bridge by waves of infantry; sometimes, like a log floating along the river, surrounded on all sides, a company or officer's cart, piled to the top and covered with leather, floated across the bridge.
“Look, they’ve burst like a dam,” the Cossack said, stopping hopelessly. -Are there many of you still there?
– Melion without one! - a cheerful soldier walking nearby in a torn overcoat said winking and disappeared; another, old soldier walked behind him.
“When he (he is the enemy) begins to fry the taperich on the bridge,” the old soldier said gloomily, turning to his comrade, “you will forget to itch.”
And the soldier passed by. Behind him another soldier rode on a cart.
“Where the hell did you stuff the tucks?” - said the orderly, running after the cart and rummaging in the back.
And this one came with a cart. This was followed by cheerful and apparently drunk soldiers.
“How can he, dear man, blaze with the butt right in the teeth…” one soldier in an overcoat tucked high said joyfully, waving his hand widely.
- This is it, sweet ham is that. - answered the other with laughter.
And they passed, so Nesvitsky did not know who was hit in the teeth and what the ham belonged to.
“They’re in such a hurry that he let out a cold one, so you think they’ll kill everyone.” - the non-commissioned officer said angrily and reproachfully.
“As soon as it flies past me, uncle, that cannonball,” said the young soldier, barely restraining laughter, with a huge mouth, “I froze.” Really, by God, I was so scared, it’s a disaster! - said this soldier, as if boasting that he was scared. And this one passed. Following him was a carriage, unlike any that had passed so far. It was a German steam-powered forshpan, loaded, it seemed, with a whole house; tied behind the forshpan that the German was carrying was a beautiful, motley cow with a huge udder. On the feather beds sat a woman with a baby, an old woman and a young, purple-red, healthy German girl. Apparently, these evicted residents were allowed through with special permission. The eyes of all the soldiers turned to the women, and while the cart passed, moving step by step, all the soldiers' comments related only to two women. Almost the same smile of lewd thoughts about this woman was on all their faces.
- Look, the sausage is also removed!
“Sell mother,” another soldier said, stressing the last syllable, turning to the German, who, with his eyes downcast, walked angrily and fearfully with wide steps.
- How did you clean up! Damn it!
“If only you could stand with them, Fedotov.”
- You saw it, brother!
-Where are you going? - asked the infantry officer who was eating an apple, also half-smiling and looking at the beautiful girl.
The German, closing his eyes, showed that he did not understand.
“If you want, take it for yourself,” the officer said, handing the girl an apple. The girl smiled and took it. Nesvitsky, like everyone else on the bridge, did not take his eyes off the women until they passed. When they passed, the same soldiers walked again, with the same conversations, and finally everyone stopped. As often happens, at the exit of the bridge the horses in the company cart hesitated, and the entire crowd had to wait.
- And what do they become? There is no order! - said the soldiers. -Where are you going? Damn! There's no need to wait. Even worse, he will set the bridge on fire. “Look, the officer was locked in too,” the stopped crowds said from different sides, looking at each other, and still huddled forward towards the exit.
Looking under the bridge at the waters of Ens, Nesvitsky suddenly heard a sound that was still new to him, quickly approaching... something big and something plopping into the water.
- Look where it's going! – the soldier standing close said sternly, looking back at the sound.
“He’s encouraging them to pass quickly,” said another restlessly.
The crowd moved again. Nesvitsky realized that it was the core.
- Hey, Cossack, give me the horse! - he said. - Well, you! stay away! step aside! way!
With great effort he reached the horse. Still screaming, he moved forward. The soldiers squeezed to give him way, but again they pressed on him again so that they crushed his leg, and those closest were not to blame, because they were pressed even harder.
- Nesvitsky! Nesvitsky! You, madam!” a hoarse voice was heard from behind.
Nesvitsky looked around and saw, fifteen paces away, separated from him by a living mass of moving infantry, red, black, shaggy, with a cap on the back of his head and a brave mantle draped over his shoulder, Vaska Denisov.
“Tell them what to give to the devils,” he shouted. Denisov, apparently in a fit of ardor, shining and moving his coal-black eyes with inflamed whites and waving his unsheathed saber, which he held with a bare little hand as red as his face.
- Eh! Vasya! – Nesvitsky answered joyfully. -What are you talking about?
“Eskadg “on pg” you can’t go away,” shouted Vaska Denisov, angrily opening his white teeth, spurring his beautiful black, bloody Bedouin, who, blinking his ears from the bayonets he bumped into, snorting, spraying foam from the mouthpiece around him, ringing, he beat his hooves on the planks of the bridge and seemed ready to jump over the railings of the bridge if the rider would allow him. - What is this? like bugs! exactly like bugs! Pg "och... give dog" ogu!... Stay there! you're a wagon, chog"t! I'll kill you with a saber! - he shouted, actually taking out his saber and starting to wave it.
The soldiers with frightened faces pressed against each other, and Denisov joined Nesvitsky.
- Why aren’t you drunk today? – Nesvitsky said to Denisov when he drove up to him.
“And they won’t let you get drunk!” answered Vaska Denisov. “They’ve been dragging the regiment here and there all day long. It’s like that, it’s like that. Otherwise, who knows what it’s like!”
- What a dandy you are today! – Nesvitsky said, looking at his new mantle and saddle pad.
Denisov smiled, took out a handkerchief from his cart, which smelled of perfume, and stuck it in Nesvitsky’s nose.
- I can’t, I’m going to work! I got out, brushed my teeth and put on perfume.
The dignified figure of Nesvitsky, accompanied by a Cossack, and the determination of Denisov, waving his saber and shouting desperately, had such an effect that they squeezed onto the other side of the bridge and stopped the infantry. Nesvitsky found a colonel at the exit, to whom he needed to convey the order, and, having fulfilled his instructions, went back.
Having cleared the road, Denisov stopped at the entrance to the bridge. Casually holding back the stallion rushing towards his own and kicking, he looked at the squadron moving towards him.
Transparent sounds of hooves were heard along the boards of the bridge, as if several horses were galloping, and the squadron, with officers in front, four in a row, stretched out along the bridge and began to emerge on the other side.
The stopped infantry soldiers, crowding in the trampled mud near the bridge, looked at the clean, dapper hussars marching orderly past them with that special unfriendly feeling of alienation and ridicule that is usually encountered in various branches of the military.

The famous Russian journalist Yuri Geiko, whose wife is an equally famous Soviet and Russian actress, became popular thanks to his articles and stories.

Yuri was born in 1948 in Moscow. As a child, he dreamed of becoming a pilot, but at the age of 8 he once received a poetry album as a gift, in which he began to write his own poems. Within a couple of years, Yuri began performing on the stage of the Pskov House of Pioneers. I liked to read a lot. After graduating from school, he wanted to become a journalist and began attending lectures at Moscow State University on Russian language, literature and history. However, he was not accepted into the journalism department, after which Geiko had to go to Kharkov and enter the local higher command and engineering school to become a rocket scientist. However, he did not enter here either, missing only 1 point. As Geiko himself said, he even went to the dacha of the general, who was the head of this school, and tried to persuade him to accept him. But he, naturally, sent Yuri to hell.

Then Geiko returned to Moscow and purchased a reference book for applicants to Moscow universities. He randomly poked at the table of contents 3 times and went to submit documents to those universities that came across. It was MIEM, MAMI and some third one. Geiko immediately took a liking to MAMI. He submitted documents to it and entered. From the very first courses, Yuri fell in love with cars and began racing with friends on race tracks. After graduating from university, he became a research engineer for strength testing of bodies.

However, in 1976, Geiko submitted documents to the Gorky Literary Institute, where he entered. At the moment, he has worked as a test engineer, a stuntman at a studio, a receptionist at a car service center, and a correspondent for Komsomolskaya Pravda. But he gained the greatest fame as an automobile journalist with auto columns, first on Komsomolskaya Pravda, then in Rossiyskaya Gazeta and on Avtoradio.

In 1980, on the set of the film “The Kidnapping of the Century,” Yuri met actress Marina Dyuzheva. At that time, they both already had one failed marriage. The wedding of Geiko and Dyuzheva took place in February 1983. In their marriage, they had 2 sons - Mikhail and Gregory.

Marina is a graduate of GITIS. From 1978 to 1997 she worked as an actress at the Theater-Studio of Film Actors. During her career she played in more than 50 films. You can see the actress in “Secret City”, “Consider Me an Adult”, “Re-Wedding”, “Pokrovsky Gate”, “Tavern on Pyatnitskaya”, “Mimino”, “State Border” and many other famous films.

Graduated from the Moscow Automotive Institute (MAMI), Literary Institute named after. Gorky. In the army he served as an officer-chief of the automotive and tractor service of a missile site in Kazakhstan. He worked as a test engineer at AZLK, a stuntman at a film studio, a receptionist at a car service center, and a correspondent for the Komsomolskaya Pravda newspaper. His wife is actress Dyuzheva, Marina Mikhailovna. Geiko, a participant in the 1989 round-the-world car trip "Columbus Caravan", traveled around the globe along approximately the 40th parallel driving a "Moskvich-2141", which stood in the AZLK museum for many years until the plant was plundered. For this trip he received the status of “Honorary Citizen of Columbus” (the capital of Ohio in the USA). Author of books on automotive journalism and scripts. Winner of the All-Russian competition of journalists “Golden Gong-2005” in the nomination “Publication Effectiveness”.

Participant and organizer of two round-the-world car rallies, the first on "Moskvich-2141" - in 1989, was held under the name "Columbus Caravan", for which Yuri was awarded the title "Honorary Citizen" of the city of Columbus, the capital of Ohio (USA). Yuri Geiko made his second circumnavigation of the world in an Izhevsk-made KIA Spectra car in 2006.

Geiko Yuri Vasilievich about himself

“I was born in Moscow, on the day and even the hour when the great Lev Nikolaevich Tolstoy was born (according to the old style), but exactly 120 years after him, that is, 10 periods. (The period is a complete change of cells in the human body - is 12 years old.) This fact, of course, doesn’t mean anything, but it’s funny.

I was born in Moscow, but my mother’s contractions began on the train, on which she was traveling to the capital to see her mother to give birth from Vypolzov, where my father served in the aviation regiment. The guides persuaded her to go to Klin, where they reported about the woman in labor by telegraph, they drove a cart there to the station, but my mother was adamant, despite the fact that her water had already broken - she brought this valuable fruit to Moscow, making me a full-fledged Muscovite.

This is how wheels entered my life from my mother’s womb and forever.

Who did I not dream of becoming in my childhood, divided by two military pilot camps - Vypolzovsky and Pskovsky! But it so happened that at the age of eight, someone gave me an album for poetry and thereby determined my life - the album was so beautiful, with gold embossing and monograms, that it was simply impossible not to start writing poetry there. And I began - in the spirit of my time and upbringing:

“A lonely flame burns, a gloomy peasant sits over a book. He dreams of the years when there will never be a king...”

And a couple of years later I tasted the sweetness of fame, reading something from the stage of the Pskov House of Pioneers.

True, I read a lot - to the detriment of lessons, in defiance of my father’s prohibitions, furtively, even with a flashlight under the blanket. But it was my father who truly defined my life by forcing me to keep diaries since the third grade - how grateful I am to him for that! I consider this absolutely necessary for any person striving for perfection, and especially for those who want to clearly express their thoughts on paper!.. Systematic recordings of what they saw and experienced give vigilance, teach the ability to isolate and realize the main thing, a diary is the main universities of the soul.

I also owe my father the knowledge of the origin of our rare surname; he read this story in local church books, this is how it sounds...

Peter the Great allegedly went to the Battle of Poltava in Ukraine. He was riding and his horse's girth broke. And on the horizon there was a village. “What kind of village? Are there any saddlers there?” asked Peter. No one answered and they named the village Popruzhna. And after some time it was granted to the landowner under some name I have already forgotten, let it be Kovalenko. And a family went from him to half the village - Kovalenki. And the rest of the village are Geiki. So Geiki are those who were “geaked”: “Gay, gag - “Gay, lad, fuck to the point!”

My parents, as often happens in Russian families, didn’t care who I would become - whoever I wanted, as long as I went somewhere. At the end of school, I wanted to become a journalist and I bought subscriptions to Moscow State University for applicants to lectures on Russian, history and literature. I listened to them with great interest, but when I came to submit my documents to the journalism department, I was intimidated: how smart and thieves everyone there is, with their dads and moms, and already with publications! And out of grief, I, a Muscovite, went with my classmate Yurka Kosenko to enter the Kharkov Higher Command and Engineering School to become a rocket scientist. Yurka entered, but I missed one point, which made me terribly upset and went on the weekend to the dacha of the general - the head of that school, to persuade him to accept me. The general, naturally, sent me through my mother.

Returning to Moscow, I bought a reference book for applicants to universities in the capital and poked a pencil three times at random into its table of contents. MIEM (electronic engineering), MAMI (auto-mechanical) and something else fell out. I went with the documents to “something else” - I didn’t like the building: it was some kind of barn, I didn’t even go inside. MIEM seemed too luxurious for me, and I also didn’t go inside. And I liked MAMI, I looked at the faculties: foundry (then the strongest in the Union) - damn molten metal; internal combustion engines - never mind gasoline and oil; auto-tractor (the coolest department) - don't care about these tractors; mechanical engineering technology - but this sounds solid and incomprehensible. I submitted my documents, passed them, and got admitted.

And I did - I fell in love with the car. Already in my second year, I began to wander with friends around the racing tracks of the Union: “Chaika” in Kyiv, Bikirnieki near Tallinn, Pirita near Riga. At the same time, he became the “son of the regiment” of the AZLK rally team, traveled with it around the country, and, after graduating from MAMI, became an AZLK research engineer. He specialized in strength testing of bodies and was involved in motorsports. In 1976 he entered the Gorky Literary Institute.

At the turn of his 33rd birthday, he abruptly changed both his wife and his profession - he became a journalist for Komsomolskaya Pravda, where he worked for 22 years. In 1980, on the set of the film “The Kidnapping of the Century,” in which I performed stunts, I met actress Marina Dyuzheva. We were united not only by our first failed marriages - Masha (she loved that name) was born on the same day as my mother. On our second night together, it turned out that our fathers were born on the same day. Further - more: our parents’ weddings happened within one day of each other! But God continued his hints - she gave birth to our first son, Mishka, on her birthday and on my mother’s birthday. But when she gave birth to her second son, Grishka, on my birthday, I realized that this was Fate.”

Essays

• Auto-education program. M., 2009.
• A thrill on wheels. M., 2009.
• Driving skills and safety. M., 2009.
• How they deceive us. M., 2009.
• A woman driving and other devilry. M., 2009.
• Something from history. M., 2009.
• Winter. M., 2009.
• Advice in its purest form. M., 2009.
• Trips. M., 2009.
• My friends, my heroes. M., 2009.

Personal site

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See what “Yuri Geiko” is in other dictionaries:

Yuri Geiko Occupation: journalist Date of birth: August 28, 1948 (1948 08 28) (64 years old) Place of birth ... Wikipedia

Geiko surname. Famous speakers: Geiko, Nikolai Nikolaevich (1960 2009) Soviet Russian actor and director. Geiko, Yuri Vasilyevich (b. 1948) Russian journalist ... Wikipedia

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Books

• Driver's ABC. Second edition, expanded, Yuri Geiko, Yuri Geiko's ABC - a real find for any motorist. Every driver will find a lot of interesting things in it, regardless of driving experience. "The Driver's ABC" is able to interest and... Category: