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It is enough with the world's news and write-ups about Subaru! Let's talk about the people who are attacked by this "Subaru" disease for a long time and have no chance to recover! There is a story of one Subaru maniac from Russia!
Let me introduce you - Alexei aka Shooter…
One day with Impreza WRX.
It's cool morning and the heat of the day is yet to come. I'm going to the parking lot. I push my fob and hear Impreza's chirping discontentedly - it's again my neighbor hit it with the door. Some day I'll break off the mirror on his car in response to that as he doesn't understand the human words! I turn the key, the fuel pump starts buzzing, the cranking motor rotates a few times and the morning calmness is disturbed by the sounds of opposite. I light up the cigarette and brush the car thinking of the plans on the day… a few minutes later the car starts moving with air-conditioning and radio on. I'm listening to the idle talk on 107 FM when riding the narrow street with founderous road and cursing quietly to myself the parking lot drive which they seem never going to mend (I broke the face bar there!). Then I crawl along the street in a stream of cars still listening to the stupid chat of DJs. Conditioner is whirring and poor sound insulation makes me mad (no better than Lada's). And it feels not very comfortable to crawl over the railings with my 17" wheels. It's rather difficult to hold a cel in one hand and to change gears with another one… After each more or less prolonged stepping on the gas I start thinking about installing front intercooler (it's getting hot and it makes me feel and the conditioner doesn't make any better at all). I park the car near the office making the other cars' alarms peeping because of stream of air. I leave casting a glance at my car droning with discontent and with its cooling fan making noise.
In the evening I drive out of the washing. It's cool and the street lamps are already on reflecting their light on the back sides of the car. I drop by the refueling (20l of gas, small Sprite, and a pack of cigarettes). When I ride out the refueling the black Forester gives us the way. Thank you, brother. I get into low gear, step on the gas and to the accompaniment of HKS SSQV I change gear. In the rear-view mirror I can see Forester with its lifted-up-nose trying to keep up with me. We stop at traffic light. I cast a glance at the driver - it's a young boy. He concentrates at the traffic light waiting for green light. Well, why not:) I start the car, step on the gas again, and get into second gear. Blow-off is hissing, the nose of the car lifts up a little and the indicator of pressure switch flies up to 1,1 bar. Buy-bye, Forester! Listening to Darude and to exhaust sounds of the car I begin to play checks on the road with Forester. I'm very excited and I try not to miss anything - nor drunk pedestrians, nor traffic lights, nor the readings of velocity gage, nor the image of Forester in the rear-view mirror. The indicator of velocity gage is hunting between 4 and 8. The indicator of speedometer moves to the second half of its panel. I realize now that steering is very easy and there is almost no heeling. Steerage and mounting fit perfectly for such races. Chair fix my body very well and the steering wheel with BLITZ label is very comfortable to hold in hands. After passing few traffic lights Forester turns right and I keep on moving straight. Forester beeps good-bye several times and I do the same in response. That was a good race… Adrenaline is in my blood and I don't care anymore about poor sound insulation and I see that gears change very easily and accurately and, moreover, low-profile tyres don't hiss on turn. I ride back to the parking lot, stop and go out of the car. Then I push my fob and Impreza winks at me with its blinker and I leave it with turbo timer on. Impreza's engine wambles with content and its collector crackle.

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