Tales about the typewriter. Tales about cars. Modern fairy tales for children Children's stories about cars read

TALE Magic machine, Santa Claus, gnomes and Vovochka The boy really wanted a car for the New Year. But he didn't behave very well. And that’s why I received an unusual gift from Santa Claus

TALE Car for the whole family Mom, dad, Shurochka and Nyurochka were choosing a car at the car market. It's not the easiest thing to choose a car.

TALE Fun Bus One cheerful bus really loved its job, its passengers, and the city it traveled through.

FAIRY TALE Blue car goes to town Once upon a time there was a car that dreamed of becoming a city car. One day she plucked up courage and left the village for big city

TALE Almost new car for sale

TALE Talkative scooter It is not always useful to give advice to others. The little new scooter didn’t know about this and made such a mess!

TALE Gopka and Topka: tracker rollers Detective brothers Gopka and Topka solve the case of missing comic books

A TALE about a car that wanted to fly Some people think that only birds can fly. But not cars. But why?

TALE about a concrete mixer Such a great car! So strong and important! Doesn't anyone really want to be friends with her?

A TALE about Billy the Excavator and the Magic Wheel At the construction site, all the machines were chatting among themselves. The youngest excavator pulled an unusual thing out of the ground.

TALE Car and mushroom A good story about a chance encounter between a radio-controlled car and a mushroom in the forest.

TALE The Little Engine Puff: a harmful journey The little locomotive Pykh took the harmful old people from house number eight on Orekhovaya Street on a journey

TALE Important gears The gears sat on a shelf in the garage and told stories to everyone. And then the boy Vanya came and took them away.

TALE Buddy - a toy car The boy Vanya was given a toy car for his birthday. He collected it, but it turned out badly. The other toys started laughing at her

STORY Constructors

STORY Useful Machine Sanya and Vanya sat on a bench and dreamed about what cars they would buy for themselves when they grow up. And then Sanya went home and mom and dad also began to dream about his, Sanya’s, car

TALE I'm running Mitenka, I'm running! How a grandmother always helped her granddaughter Mitenka. And even when he became very big

A kind and resourceful carriage has found its train and is now ready to help everyone

TALE Automotive Aibolit This is the grandson of the famous doctor, who loved to repair cars, bicycles, rollerblades, and even airplanes.

Of course, most often fairy tales about cars read for boys. But no, it’s not surprising that girls are also very interested in such stories. Because everyone modern child at least once in my life I went to passenger car, or bus, or train, or tram. And, of course, every child knows what a bicycle, roller skates, scooter are...

The stories placed in this group happen to the most different types transport. They allow us to take a fresh look at the familiar objects around us.

Chapter 1. Introduction

I am often asked why I love my job? I don’t even know... To be honest, I like everything about her. I love the sticky, slightly pungent smell of engine oil mixed with notes of gasoline and fresh tires. I love the roar of properly running engines. When they get here, hoarse, quiet, so tired, it’s painful to look at them; my heart breaks from the pity of these sounds. But then, quite a bit of time passes and the cars begin to sing, melodiously and loudly, almost like birds.

My name is Aibolit, and yes, the same great doctor who treated everyone from hippos to bunnies was my grandfather.

Oh, how many amazing stories I heard in my early childhood about his life, about what countries he visited, what strange animals he cured. And, of course, my parents had no doubt that I would continue the family business and become a doctor. But... More than anything else, I loved cars.

I fixed my first toy car when I was three years old. I remember how she lay on the street in the rain, alone, abandoned, forgotten by everyone, with her body split in half. I found it and brought it home. And there I took glue, paints and fixed the machine. It turned out very well. The car immediately began to drive around me and honk in gratitude.

I have repaired my bike, and other bikes, countless times. To be honest, all the bikes that were on my street. And on the neighbors. I don’t know why, out of all the boys, they chose me? Probably because I was the only one who was ready not only to repair, but also to listen to their many problems. What problems might transportation have? Very different, and not always simple.

For example, the other day, my old friend, Samosval Kuzovich, came to see me. Yes, yes, now I’m already a big guy with severe wrinkles on my forehead, but kind green eyes. And now not only bicycles and toy cars come to me, but also real adult working cars. So, while I was changing the tire of Dump Truck Kuzovich, he constantly told me how unfairly his owner treated him - he drove him around dusty and noisy construction sites all day long. And Dump Truck Kuzovich spent his only well-deserved vacation of the year locked in his garage, while he could have been lying on the beach under the bright sun or riding through fragrant forests, listening to birdsong, and so on.

But that's something else!

This morning, as soon as I opened my eyes, I was informed that someone named Karetkin had arrived.

I got out of bed, and in my pajamas, without even drinking coffee, I headed to the workshop, which fortunately occupied the garage of my own house.

Well, what do you think?!

This Karetkin turned out to be the most ordinary carriage, which separated from the horses ( you see, he’s tired of always being on the sidelines) and demanded that I install an engine for him. What a misfortune! I began to explain to Karetkin that his uniqueness, so to speak, market value, lies precisely in being with horses. But he didn’t want to listen to anything. I installed the engine for him after all.

Chapter 2. The beginning of amazing events

I had barely said goodbye to the anxious Karetkin and sat down at a small table with curved legs by the window in the living room to drink the prescribed morning coffee... No, not like that...

As soon as I raised the mug of morning coffee to my mouth, the doorbell rang. My housekeeper, a kind and already slightly blind lawn mower, immediately rushed to open it.

At first I heard an unintelligible buzzing sound from the street. I've never heard anything like this before. A second later the housekeeper called me:

- Sir, they are asking for you. A matter of extreme importance.

I put the coffee back on the table and went outside. Still in pajamas. What I saw behind the door amazed me a lot. Blocking the street with its massive body, a real military aircraft stood in front of my house. Previously, I had only seen these in pictures, and in general I try to deal exclusively with civilians.

- How can I serve you? – I politely addressed the visitor, trying to hide my excitement.

- Allow me to introduce myself - Lieutenant Colonel Flash, Gorgandian Air Force.

“Yeah... Gorgandia...” I tried in vain to remember on the map where this state was located. - How can I serve you?

- We have an emergency situation. Several units of military equipment under my control crashed in the Himalayas. You must go there immediately and do everything possible to get them into the air again!
I involuntarily chuckled (out of indignation, of course), but immediately pulled myself together and calmly explained to the guest that I do not repair military equipment, much less aircraft. But my opponent didn’t listen:

“I’m telling you, this is a matter of extreme importance!” You must go there with me immediately!

- Why don’t you just take one of the masters there, who certainly understand this problem better than me? Is there really not a single repairman in your entire Gorgandia who specializes in aircraft?

“You don’t understand,” the guest started shouting. But then an old woman leaned out of the window of a neighboring house and sternly shook her finger at me:

- Aibolit! Your jokes are making my TV go crazy! Please mind your own business in your garage!

The fact is that my guest actually touched the power lines with his wing, and every time he tried to express his thought, the wires shook from his thunderous bass.

Apparently, like all military men, the guest treated his elders with great respect, and therefore he calmed down and continued almost in a whisper:

“You don’t understand, the problem is not finding a master.” Of course, in our country there are repair shops and even design bureaus. The fact is that the planes that crashed in the Himalayas refuse to return to normal life. They told me that they would spend the rest of their days in the mountains, learning the meaning of life far from civilization.

Probably, these words made my face stretch out like a zucchini, because, judge for yourself, have you ever heard something like that at least once in your life?

For me personally, never!

Military aircraft - who voluntarily wish to spend the rest of their lives in the mountains. Are they monks from a Buddhist monastery?! And what, excuse me, will they be doing there, if not flying? Goat breeding?

I really wanted to pinch myself. And if it weren’t for the old lady neighbor who was still sneaking glances at us through the curtains, I would have thought that I was dreaming all this.

Meanwhile, my new friend continued:
— You were recommended to me as a person who knows how to find common language with technology. This is rare these days. Gorgandia is a very rich country. You can expect significant rewards.

No, I have never chased profit. In general, work has always brought me joy. It's all about my sick housekeeper - the lawnmower. And also in a garage-workshop, which would not hurt to update or even rent a separate building in which large-sized machines can be repaired.

After some thought, I made a decision:
“Well, if you’ll let me finish my coffee and pack my suitcase, we can fly.”

My new acquaintance was somehow embarrassed, and I felt some understatement:
“The fact is that at the moment any flights over the Himalayas are prohibited. I can deliver you, at most, to the shores of India, and then you will have to get there on your own.

Gee! We did not agree on such a situation. After all, unlike my eminent grandfather, who treated sick animals in Africa, and on distant oceanic islands, and even in Antarctica, I never left hometown. Why, I even wore slippers to work. I didn’t have the slightest idea about how to get from the shores of Hindustan to the Himalayas. On the other hand, my father always said that the fate of each of us is written in advance in some big heavenly books. Definitely happy and kind. To refuse the given opportunity means to rewrite your own book. And, you might even regret it. Eh, it was not...

I returned to the living room, swallowed the cold coffee in one gulp and went upstairs to pack my things.

An hour later, a huge supersonic strategic missile-carrying bomber with a variable-sweep wing (I learned these details later) was taking me far, far from my hometown. The same one where in an ordinary old house, with a garage equipped as a car repair shop, there remained a lonely and weak-sighted lawn mower...

Chapter 3. India. Getting to know the rickshaw

- Hey, buddy! Where do you need to go?

I opened my eyes. The incredibly crowded city was noisy and humming all around. Last night when the plane brought me here it was dark.

The lanterns were almost out, so I just found an empty bench and collapsed on it until the morning. But with the first rays of sunlight, the streets were filled with noise and hubbub, in which human voices and the sounds of traffic merged together.

A very strange creature leaned over me. In appearance it looked like an ordinary two-wheeled cart, the kind that farmers use on their farms. Only for some reason, instead of a horse, a man was harnessed to the cart.

A small, dark Indian. Hunched and white-toothed.
- Who are you? – I turned in surprise to the cart (well, or to what could be called a cart).
“You’re wonderful...” the cart snorted. – By profession I am a rickshaw puller, and by my father they call me Abhay Ajiit Amar Aditya.

I preferred to call this creature simply by profession.
“I need to go to the Himalayas,” I told him. - These are the mountains.
“I know,” the rickshaw driver chuckled. – I can deliver to the Mumbai railway station. From there there is a train to Siliguri. This is right at the foot of the Himalayan mountains.

I liked the idea, and therefore, having paid the due amount to the man harnessed to the rickshaw, I plopped into the cart, taking with me all my simple suitcase.

On the way to the Mumbai railway station, a talkative rickshaw driver chatted incessantly, telling us about everything that came our way.
When I finally arrived at the Mumbai train station, I felt like I knew India as well as my hometown.

Chapter 4. Train - Ananda Nuri

It turned out that the train to the city of Siliguri at the foot of the Himalayan mountains runs no more than once a week. But it seems luck was on my side. Today was exactly that day. There was no more than an hour left before the train departed. However, at the local box office, they told me that all the seats had been sold out. But I, not at all upset, headed straight towards the locomotive.

It was a rather gray and world-weary unit. From the outside it might seem that it was better not to pester him with questions. But I still dared:
- Good day! – I told him.
“Good morning,” he responded in an unusually pleasant and soft voice. So soft that I even thought... It can’t be!
- Excuse me, but what is your name? – I couldn’t resist asking, wanting to test my hypothesis.
“No one has asked me about this before,” the locomotive perked up, “but since you’re interested, Ananda Nuri is my name.”

This is true! I was not mistaken!
I, in turn, also respectfully introduced myself and told where and why I had come to Mumbai.
Locomotive Ananda Nuri looked at me in surprise:
- So you are not a tourist?
- Alas, I am a doctor, so to speak. Machine doctor.

I’ve already told you that I know how to find an approach to technology. Not even five minutes had passed before the locomotive began telling me about her problems, about the negligence of the driver and how tired she was of traveling along the same route year after year, while there are so many extraordinary its remarkable places. And something also went wrong in her diesel oil system, but during the last technical inspection the master did not notice this, and now Ananda Nuri suffered a lot while driving.

I instantly took gloves and several special repair supplies from my traveling suitcase and fixed the locomotive in no time.
“I cannot express in words how grateful I am to you,” she said with natural Indian respect. – Listen, what if you go right here, at the head of the train? There is no need to crowd together with all these ungrateful people in crowded carriages.

I didn’t talk about the fact that I, in fact, didn’t even have a ticket, and having sincerely thanked my new friend for the offer, I quickly threw my things into the locomotive.

The train started moving. To the right and left of the railway tracks, myriads of unstable buildings, resembling huts, flashed. Each of them was crowded with people. For the most part they were bare-bellied, dark-skinned guys. But there were also rickshaws that were already familiar to me, and sometimes, very rarely, there were cars. They sleepily looked around the accelerating train with their half-closed headlights. I don’t know what they were thinking about there, but they looked most boring.

Forty-six hours or two full days according to Indian railway together with the incredibly talkative Ananda Nuri, and now I’m standing in the middle of a busy train station in the city of Siliguri, and above me, like the centuries-old guardians of these places, the Himalayan mountains rise.
“Goodbye,” I said good-naturedly to the locomotive at parting.
- Goodbye, good doctor! – Ananda Nuri boomed to me. “And may everything you want to accomplish in these great mountains certainly be done.”

Chapter 5. Bus - the rise begins.

There were buses parked in a row right next to the railway. I approached them and politely inquired about their route. It turned out that they were all heading towards the Himalayas, but none of them reached the place I needed:

“You shouldn’t go there,” remarked the most dilapidated and badly painted bus. The paint on its roof was completely peeling, one of the two doors did not close tightly, and the other was completely missing. I really wanted to help this poor guy. But it would have taken me at least several days to carry out work of such complexity. And besides, special tools were needed.

Soon the drivers arrived, I bought a ticket from one of them and, climbing into the stuffy, terribly smelling gasoline interior of the poor fellow's bus, I stared out the window.

The mountains surrounded us somehow suddenly. It seems that they were just visible on the horizon, but now they are piling up on both sides of the road, threatening to crush us at any moment. The bus goes higher and higher. Far below remains Siliguri, and the river, and herds of grazing cows, which now look like tiny dots.

We drove for many hours along a winding mountain road. And when it began to get dark, our bus began to puff, rattle, and then suddenly stalled in the middle of the road.
The devastated driver jumped out with screwdrivers in his hands and immediately crawled under the bus to look for the cause of the breakdown. I also got out of tears and, walking around the bus from my face, looked pitifully into its headlights:

- Well, buddy, the technical inspection probably took place a long time ago?

“Eh-eh-heh...” the bus sighed dully. - What kind of technical inspection is there? I should have been scrapped for three years already... If it weren’t for my faithful driver, who doesn’t eat or drink himself and saves me everything on parts, I’d be lying in welding right now along with other poor fellows.

I felt so sorry for this bus and its compassionate owner, who was starving for the sake of his pet. I decided to extend my journey for a while on the way to the planes and help them in any way I could. Having approached the driver who was buried under the bus, I explained to him who I was. Hearing this, he straightened up to his full height, and then began to bow to me, thanking heaven for giving him such a generous gift. I took all the available parts from him and got to work.

It took me the whole night to breathe new life into this old unit. It was early morning when I finished. All passengers, including the driver, were sleeping peacefully in their seats. And only the bus and I did not sleep, but discussed the changes that had taken place over a glass of tea. More precisely, I drank tea. I had it stored in advance in a camp thermos, and the bus was enjoying the fresh fuel it had just filled. His voice sounded completely different now:

“I’ll tell you what, Aibolit,” he said softly, with a noticeable hoarseness, “the place where you need to go is far, far from civilization.” There are no cities or people there. I know brave souls who will agree to take you there. These guys are wild, of course, but brave.

Now, when we arrive in the village, I will introduce you to them.

I sincerely thanked the bus for its help and went up to the cabin to wake up the driver.

Chapter 6. Bicycles Kizi and Mukul

By noon we reached a high mountain village. The air here was unusually fresh. Apart from our bus and another rusty car, there was no other transport here. I was looking around, trying to understand what kind of brave guys they were talking about, when two small youth bicycles with frames covered with chewing gum stickers rolled up to the station.
- ABOUT! Here they are! – the bus beeped joyfully. - Kesey! Mukul! How many years - how many winters!
The bus and the bicycles (which turned out to be not so young after all) exchanged mutual greetings. Then the three eyes turned to me:

“Well, guys,” said the bus (I didn’t even bother to find out his name), “will you help this guy?” He helped me out a lot. I don’t want such a person to perish in these mountains.
“We’ll be happy to help,” the bicycles crackled. “But we just can’t get to our destination.” It's too high. Our wheels will have a hard time there. But, honestly, we will travel as far as we can.
I said goodbye to the bus, loaded my things onto one bike, got on the other and rode further into the mountains. I confess to you that I turned out to be a terrible coward.

I never noticed that I was afraid of heights or bad weather. Although, actually, how could I check this? At home, going down from the second floor to the first? And watching a thunderstorm from behind the window glass was not so scary. Sheer cliffs with steep mountain gorges are a completely different matter. And also a thunderstorm on the pass, which will split you like a piece of wood.

My guides really turned out to be rare daredevils. We balanced on the edge of an abyss, like circus tightrope walkers. Stones, larger and smaller, which had lain here for thousands of years, flew out with a whistle from under the wheels of Kizi and Mukul and rushed into the abyss with terrifying speed. Just think, we could have been in their place!

We had to spend several cold nights under open air. I slept on the damp ground, spreading things under my head, and my tireless guides drilled into the impenetrable darkness with their headlights.

Incredibly, they once managed to save me from certain death in this way. In the midst of the night, Mukul (we must pay tribute to his sensitivity) heard the patter of large paws. And although the unknown man tried to move as quietly as possible, the bicycle’s keen hearing could not hide his approach. He instantly woke me up and ordered me to stay behind them, while they and Kesey put their threatening wheel spokes forward and prepared to hold the attack. It was none other than the Himalayan bear. No longer a bear cub, but not yet an adult bear.

Luckily for us, the show of two furious and fearless youthful bicycles surprised and even frightened him. The bear stood aside for a while, and then, not wanting to get involved in a fight with unknown creatures, he went home.

After that, I looked at my saviors with completely different eyes. I even decided that when my whole adventure with the fallen planes was over, I would definitely return to the small Indian village, find the bicycles and thank them generously. You can, for example, completely update them. Or convert them into real electric mopeds. Or even (if they agree, of course) to make self-propelled rickshaws out of them.

I savored my idea for several days. Until it was time to say goodbye. No matter how brave my new friends were, the time had come. I was overwhelmed with feelings and wanted to cry. But how could I show weakness in front of such brave types?

We parted on a rocky pass.
“Our wheels are barred from going any further,” Kizi told me, and Muku sighed deeply in confirmation of his words. - Take care of yourself! - they told me.
- And you! – I answered. – Don’t forget to lubricate the chains on time. This is very important!

Chapter 7 The impartial wiry goat

The bicycles rolled back, humming some ringing Indian song, and I went further up. The stones under my feet crumbled every now and then. I clung to the ground with my hands and, like a strange four-legged creature, conquered impenetrable, impenetrable and merciless horizons. And in my head someone’s thin voice echoed:

... And the mountains are getting higher, and the mountains are getting steeper,

and the mountains go under the very clouds.

Oh, if I don't get there.

If I disappear on the way...K. Chukovsky

Oh, if only my legendary grandfather could see me now! I wonder what he would say?

I spent the whole day storming one single mountain. When my strength finally left me, I decided to take a break. It was difficult to make a fire at such a height because of the thin air, and there was no trace of firewood. So I just took bread and cheese and a flask of water out of my backpack.

As soon as I opened my mouth and prepared to eat, someone’s strange gray muzzle poked out from behind a nearby boulder. She stared greedily at my sandwich, and after a moment, the rest of the body appeared, following the muzzle. It was an impartial, sinewy goat, an inhabitant of the local mountains. People like him can jump along steep cliffs, and even pass where other animals, it would seem, would certainly fall down.

The goat was hungry. Everything in his appearance spoke about this. But, after a whole day of travel, I also experienced an unpleasant sucking feeling in my stomach. And, although there were other supplies in my backpack besides this sandwich, there was not much food.

Who knows how many more days I will have to wander here alone? And then, the goat will probably be able to find other food. Some roots and shoots, while my human hunger cannot be satisfied with this.
Knowing that the goat did not understand me, I said out loud:
“Of course, forgive me, friend, but I’m afraid you’ll have to look for dinner elsewhere.”

Imagine my surprise when the goat did not bleat at me, but answered. Ordinarily, as we – ordinary people – say:
“There was nothing else to expect from you.” Greed is certainly the vice of all vices.
- How! - I was amazed, - Are you talking?!
The goat turned away offendedly and muttered:
- Me too, discovery. And you walk on two legs. What? Surprised?

Of course, after such a discovery, I had no choice but to invite the goat to share a meal with me. In the end, the sandwich was big enough for me alone. We ate in silence. More precisely, I chewed, and the goat simply licked off what was offered at once, and pretended that his half was much smaller than mine (although I divided everything honestly).

While I was chewing, a strange thought occurred to me.

After all, my grandfather, the famous Aibolit, perfectly understood the language of animals, birds, and even insects. And by the way, my father too. True, he mainly spoke only with his dog Laika or with Tyanitolkay, and treated other animals more and more by communicating with their owners.

As for me, in my entire life I have never spoken to a quadruped. And I didn’t talk to the fish. I didn’t even talk to the pigeons, who scurried back and forth every day in front of my window and pretended that this was not my house at all, but their dovecote, which for some reason I had illegally occupied. With transport, the situation was completely different. I understood everyone well, from roller skates to big dump trucks, and they understood me. And there was nothing unusual or mysterious about it. Until that very minute, until this impartial and sinewy goat appeared in my life.

- How long can you eat this pathetic sandwich? – a creaky, nasty voice disturbed my thoughts. The goat watched with all his eyes the pieces of bread and cheese disappearing into the depths of my mouth.

I shrugged my shoulders and said nothing.
- Do you want me to teach you one thing? - the goat suggested. - After this, you will always eat as quickly as I do.
This idea didn’t seem so bad to me, so to my misfortune, I looked up from my meal for a minute and stared questioningly at the goat.
“To begin with,” he began calmly, “you must close your eyes tightly and think about what you are going to eat.”
I obeyed.
“After that, count to three,” the goat continued.
I counted.
“Now open your eyes,” he ordered imperiously.
And I opened it. But, of course, there was no longer any sandwich on my hand. There wasn't even a goat nearby. This is the thing.

Chapter 8. Balloon

The next day, by lunchtime, I finally reached the top. From here an extraordinary, I would even say, tremblingly exciting view of the surrounding expanse opened up. There are only mountains all around. And, of course, no planes. By my calculations, I was separated from them by at least four more days of travel.

Having crossed the top and stopped on a small rocky shelf, I suddenly saw something strange. Not far from me, in a crevice between the rocks, some multi-colored rag was dangling in the wind. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that something similar to a bag or basket was attached to the base of this cloth.
I headed there and just a few minutes later, a tragic picture was revealed to my eyes. Hanging over the terrifying abyss, a hot air balloon lay at the edge of the chasm. More precisely, what is left of it. Surely the poor guy has been here for more than a year. The gondola lay on its side; There were impressively sized holes in it on three sides. Probably, before landing, the structure was pretty much smashed against the rocks. The lines are almost worn out. Only a miracle still kept the balloon (the colored shell, which I at first mistook for a piece of material) and the gondola connected.
“Hey,” I said quietly to the ball. -Are you alive, buddy?

Silence hung in the air for some time. I was about to take off my hat from my head and pay tribute to the untimely departed, but suddenly something groaned and rustled and the ball quietly answered:

“It’s hard to believe, but it seems he’s alive.”

Incredible! Wonderful!

It turned out that the ball had been lying there much longer than I expected. His careless owner, having avoided a terrible catastrophe, abandoned his comrade, his always faithful, patient and understanding air friend, to the mercy of fate.

And what a miracle it was that I wasn’t lazy and grabbed the entire repair kit from home! I had no trouble patching, sealing, and securing anything that needed fixing.

Tired, but satisfied with the work done, by nightfall I was already looking at the snow-capped mountain ranges, comfortably located at the bottom of the gondola gently swaying on the air waves. And the ball, grateful and moved to tears by the miraculous deliverance, told me extraordinary stories about its past adventures. Maybe later, when I have a free minute, I’ll write them down for you too.

Needless to say, with such a successful presentation, we arrived much earlier at the place where the planes from Gorgandia were hiding from the bustle of the city.

I will try to convey to you in color what I saw, although this is hardly possible...
Gray mountains immersed in a foggy haze. Somewhere below, like a thin satin ribbon, a river winds its way. On both sides of it stretches a wonderful valley - a green-brown gorge, hidden from prying eyes and therefore even more reminiscent of a fairy-tale oasis. Something is moving down there. Something big.

I took the binoculars and put them to my eyes, although I didn’t have to do this. This is true! Disturbing the harmony of nature untouched by man, planes slowly moved across the valley.

I asked my balloon friend to descend, and after a few minutes the balloon smoothly descended to the ground.
“I can wait for you,” he suggested. – When do you plan to return?
- It's not worth it. I think I'll have to stay here for a few days.
I sincerely wished him happiness and further flights. That's where we parted. Incredible. Until that day, I had only seen balloons on TV.

Chapter 9. Missing planes

When the balloon flew away, I headed towards the planes. Although they noticed me, a stranger, they did not show it and continued to wander aimlessly through the flowering valley, leaving deep dents from their wheels on the yielding soil.
“Good day to you,” I shouted cheerfully. But the planes just looked me up and down and, without stopping, flew off somewhere.

I ran after them. It’s good that they moved slowly, otherwise I would never have caught up with them. And in general, is it possible to compete in speed with the military?

At the edge of the valley, in one of the rocks there was a crevice. So huge that a car, a train, or even an airplane could easily penetrate there. One after another, the planes disappeared into the blackened hole, and the roar from their engines echoed out, tearing the air with its growl, unnatural for these places.

When I finally reached the crevice, it took me considerable effort to overcome my fear of the unknown, darkness and closed spaces. Without thinking about it for long, I entered the vault of a huge stone “house”. As I moved further and further into the cave, the daylight became more and more diffuse. Soon the darkness enveloped me, and only a muffled hiss coming from somewhere served as a guide for me.

Quite a long time passed before I walked out into the spacious, illuminated hall. In front of me, like primitive human beings, planes stood in a circle. A flame burned in the middle of them and its flashes cast their scarlet tongues-shadows onto the walls and the gnarled ceiling. Yes, this would make any normal two-legged person feel dizzy.
I didn't want to disrupt their ritual. But, on the other hand, standing quietly was simply indecent.

I coughed:
- Kh-kh...

No reaction. Then again. Again, not a single plane paid attention to me. Then I took in more air into my lungs and screamed.

At this point all the planes turned around at once and stared at me in surprise.
“Good afternoon,” I said, embarrassed. - It’s cozy here.

One of the planes, the oldest one in appearance, slowly drove out towards me:
- Why did you come here, man? Since you found this place, you probably should know that people don’t like people here. This is the only place on the entire globe where technology chooses its own destiny.

“Yes, really,” I involuntarily scratched the back of my head. - I know that. That's actually why I came. This, you know, is somehow strange... Military aircraft are born to fly and serve, but the plane did not let me finish.
- You, like other people, are too self-confident and believe that you have the right to make choices for others. Airplanes were born to fly, cars to drive, ships to sail. But has anyone ever tried to find out what the inventions themselves want? What if a ship wants to take off or a car wants to float down the river? No, it's too complex and unnatural to fit into your primitive human brain! – he practically shouted the last words, so that several heavy blocks of stone fell from the ceiling of the cave.

I shivered involuntarily. It looks like these planes have gone crazy. It is unlikely that they will be convinced of anything.
“Sorry,” I said, “I should probably leave.” Don’t worry, I’ll find a way out myself,” with these words I backed away, but another plane immediately blocked my path.
“You’ve seen too much,” said the old plane. “We can’t let you leave like that and tell other people about our lives.” You'll have to stay here forever.

This prospect did not make me particularly happy. Yes, no matter what – I was terribly scared. I wanted to run, but are human legs capable of competing in speed with airplanes, even crazy ones?
The “old man” (I still didn’t know the name of this plane) ordered me to be taken to prison. It became a damp and dark cave, no larger than a bathroom, separated from the outside world by some kind of piece of metal instead of a door. Although, to be honest, I would not run away even if there was no door at all. My dungeon was so far from the entrance to the cave, and they led me to it for so long, overcoming numerous turns and halls, that in the end I was completely confused and did not know where I was.

My guide was a very young plane, which by the looks of it had hardly flown its first hundred thousand air miles. But his eyes were very sad, and they did not at all suit someone who had found the meaning of life and found his true calling. I tried to talk to him, but the plane did not answer and flew away.

Left alone, I sat down on the stone floor, closed my eyes and immediately fell asleep from fatigue. I had an amazing dream in which I was sitting in my cozy chair in my living room and drinking my favorite freshly brewed coffee made by my housekeeper - the lawnmower. Through the window I saw cars driving along the street. Having noticed me, they all slowed down, honked their horns in a friendly manner and went on about their business. Suddenly everything around began to change. My house, along with all the furniture, turned into a cold rocky cave, instead of cars, planes drove along the street, ships flew in the sky, and passenger cars floated one after another along the only river in our city, the Epton River.

I woke up. One. All in the same cave. Memories of recent events made me take a deep breath. What has happened to my quiet, comfortable life these past few days?

Suddenly I heard some noise. It got louder and louder. Finally, the door to my prison opened and a plane appeared on the threshold. The same one that led me here. More precisely, only wheels fit into the door. He himself could not possibly fit into the tiny room.
Still silent, he pushed me a plate with some green beans.
I guessed that this was food for me. If so, then it's not too bad. They don't want to starve me. This means that all is not lost yet.
- Can I have some water? – I asked, trying to speak as friendly as possible.
The plane heard my request and left. After some time, he returned with a huge barrel filled to the top with the purest spring water. He was about to leave when I spoke, trying to delay my loneliness at least for a little while:
- What is your name? - but, of course, there was no answer.
- Are you from Gorgandia? – I didn’t let up. – Wonderful country, probably, although I don’t remember that we studied it in geography lessons. I am Aibolit, automobile doctor. Well, in truth, not a doctor, but a mechanic, but in memory of my famous grandfather, they call me that.
My last words had a strange effect. The plane bent down and looked in the door in surprise, as if wanting to determine if I was lying. After that, he left, and a few minutes later they came for me.

Chapter 10. The terrible secret of Gorgandia

We returned to the hall. The same one where I first saw a cluster of airplane-creatures in front of the fire. They were assembled again. They just looked at me completely differently. The oldest of them addressed me:
“When you appeared here, we couldn’t even think that we were talking not with an ordinary biped, but with the great Aibolit.” In our circles, legends are made about you.

You see, everyone is pleased to hear this about themselves. And what the “old man” said later, the way he praised me, could not help but increase my self-esteem. Frankly, I even became a little proud, almost forgetting about the night spent in the stone prison.
“You must help us,” the plane finished its long speech. “Fate itself sent you here.”
- Yes, but what should I do? – I became very curious.
- You must give us immortality.
After that, the plane told me a strange story. One of those that even mothers cannot come up with to calm down their children who are cranky and unwilling to fall asleep.

Gorgandia is a wonderful sunny country, off the coast of the Mediterranean Sea. It’s so nice there all year round that even the birds don’t fly away to spend the winter in warmer climes, cars drive through the streets so slowly that they manage to wish each other a nice day as they go, and the boats moored in the coastal waters sing exciting and soulful songs, like a real choir. .

And so, in all this splendor, grace and prosperity, on the outskirts of the state, where the Misty Mountains begin, there is a cemetery. Cemetery of old and unnecessary equipment. Those who are still alive, but can no longer benefit people. Some can take care of themselves, get food, and help others. But most just die slowly. And this is the most terrible, most painful death that you can imagine. Because of the rains, equipment becomes covered with rust and remains there until its heart, the motor, becomes completely unusable. After that it’s over.
The very first plane to escape from Gorgandia was the old Turan-135, which served its country faithfully. He found this place quite by accident, flying over the Himalayas, in the hope that he would run out of fuel and crash on sharp rocks. For there is no more worthy death for a military aircraft. Having made a short stop here, Turan-135 realized that it no longer wanted to take off. Using the built-in location service, he told his loved ones not to look for him. Remembering this, the “old man” sighed heavily and a large oily tear rolled down his gray shabby metal body.

But everything turned out to be not so simple. Day after day and month after month, obsolete pieces of military and civilian equipment continued to be sent to the Cemetery. The fear of excruciating death gripped everything from simple toasters and coffee grinders to hefty combat aircraft.

And then one day, a young aircraft trainee Corp-1708, studying the message of his teacher and mentor for the hundredth time, accidentally discovered the coordinates of his location. He told the other planes about this and once again, after the completion of the combat operation, they all, instead of returning back to Gorgandia, made an unscheduled stop here in the Himalayas. At first, Turan-135 tried to persuade them to return home, but the planes all insisted that they did not want to live in anticipation of a terrible death. It’s better to end your life here, far from cruel and ruthless people.

“And now,” “old man” Turan summed up his story - 135, “Fate itself gave us a gift and gave us a second chance. You, Aibolit, will make us immortal, and only then will we return back to our homeland.
I was so amazed by what I heard that I could not find the words to answer. Yes, I was a master of my craft. During my short life, I had the opportunity to literally bring back from the other world the most rare and seemingly untreatable machines. I could disassemble a breakdown of any complexity, regardless of whether it was a hefty machine, like an airplane, or a tiny machine made from a snuff box. But immortality... Every thing on this earth has its own expiration date. I felt sorry for the planes. It is a pity that their state, with all its apparent prosperity, behaved so cruelly towards those who soared high every day, overcoming the laws of gravity, who died without sparing themselves during dangerous missions. But I was not omnipotent.

It took time to respond. I understood that every word I said, years later, would be put on my own scales of Good and Evil. Now there cannot be a third: either the planes will leave their solitude and return home with me, or we will all remain here forever to perish in this heavenly desolation.

But suddenly, as probably happens only in fairy tales, a brilliant thought came to me:
“Listen,” I began cautiously, “but don’t they know in your country what recycling is?” Don't things get a second life that are no longer used but can serve another, more noble purpose?
-What are you talking about? – Turan-135 asked me briskly.
— I'm talking about recycling. There are practically no places left in the world that you are talking about. This Cemetery is simply a landfill, taking away extra kilometers from your state. And, as far as I understand, Gorgandia is not that big. All you need is to build a waste processing plant and then each of you, after the expiration date, will be able to become something else. Something new and useful. This is how you will achieve true immortality.
There was complete silence. It seemed that the planes were not breathing. I don’t know how long this chilling silence lasted. But suddenly someone shouted:
- Glory - glory to Aibolit!

And he was immediately supported by hundreds of other voices: HURRA!!! HE'S YOUNGER! GENIUS!
***
Do I need to tell you how I spent the next four days in the Himalayas? Well, first of all, I repaired every single plane. Now, each of them, despite a long stay away from civilization, could withstand the long flight to Gorgandia. And even the old Turan-135 felt unusually young.

Secondly, using the internal radio communication system, I contacted the lieutenant colonel and reported to him under what conditions the planes were ready to return. He promised to discuss this with his management, and by evening a pleasant surprise awaited us. It turned out that in Gorgandia they were not even aware of the problem that had been troubling technology for a long time. But now, having learned about it, at the general meeting it was decided to begin the construction of the largest and most modern waste processing plant that has ever happened in history. The enterprise will open special temporary buildings where equipment can wait its turn for processing. But, the main thing is that everyone will be able to choose who exactly they want to become in their future life.

It was a victory. Mine personally, and ours with the planes in common.
Four days later we left the snow-capped Himalayas and headed to Gorgandiya, where we were greeted like real heroes.

Epilogue

I returned home only three months later. It was very difficult to leave my new friends. But the lawnmower housekeeper called me every now and then, informing me that the clients, led by Karetkin, already known to you, are literally occupying my house and do not want to look for a new mechanic.

All the following weeks I worked without raising my head. And he was so tired that he had already begun to think about returning to a secluded valley, located between inaccessible mountain peaks. But, to my great joy, there was silence around Thanksgiving. My clients, as usual, have gone elsewhere for the holidays. And I have at least four days of free existence left. I don’t even know, I’ll probably go and sit down now to write my memoirs. I will describe everything in detail for you, starting from the moment Lieutenant Colonel Flash, Gorgandian Air Force, knocked on the door of my house. In my opinion, the story will turn out just right. What do you think?

P.S. I’m looking forward to visiting Kizi and Mukul next summer. I really want to make these guys real cool bikes. Or even mopeds. It's just a surprise for now. Look, don't spill the beans. Shhhhh…..

AuthorPublishedCategories

A Tale about a Train

Lonely carriage

At the station, from where long trains departed in different directions every day, there was a lonely trailer. His name was Mitya. He himself no longer remembered how it happened that he was uncoupled from the train. As they left, the other carriages held each other and joyfully shouted to Mitya:
- Don't be discouraged! Someday we'll take you too!
But Mitya didn’t believe them. He just looked after him sadly and sighed.

One day, a passenger confused Mitya with a train leaving for distant places. The passenger climbed into it, sat comfortably at the window and began to wait. He waited a long time. He sighed and groaned. First he put his right foot on his left, then his left on his right. But, since Mitya stood motionless, the passenger asked him:
- Tell me, when will we finally hit the road?

Mitya sighed and said that he was just a carriage uncoupled from the train. The passenger apologized and went to look for his train.
Another time, some boys were playing hide and seek at the station. Of course, everyone knows that playing around near railroad tracks is very dangerous. But these boys were spoiled, and therefore they were very happy when they discovered a lonely carriage.
The boys hid behind Mitya’s seats, giggling, and this made the trailer less sad. But soon the station duty officer saw the boys and strictly ordered them to vacate the carriage.

It was an early spring morning when the young driver Borya came to the station. The birds chirped wonderfully, the grass turned green and the sun shone softly. The driver stretched sweetly, wished all the trains good morning and was about to get into the locomotive, when suddenly a sad Mitya caught his eye.

"What's happened? – thought the driver Borya. “No one should be sad on such a beautiful day.”
- What is your name? – he asked the trailer.
“Mitya,” he responded quietly.
- Why are you sad?
“Because I’ve been standing here alone for a very long time, and no one wants to take me in,” Mitya honestly admitted.
“It’s a mess,” Borya said, and then shouted cheerfully, “Listen!” Do you want to travel with my train to distant places? An extra carriage never hurts us!

Mitya couldn't believe his luck. He was so emotional that at first he even forgot the words.
“Don’t be afraid,” driver Borya encouraged him, “my carriages are quiet.” They will be happy to welcome you to their team!
This is how Mitya found his team, with which he now traveled everywhere.

Unusual fuel

Once a train, which included Mitya’s carriage, traveled along the railway for a long, long time, but still didn’t come across a station. The driver Borya was already starting to worry:
“If we don’t refuel soon,” he told his carriages, “we may not reach our destination.”

All the carriages began to carefully look around in search of some city or village. But all around there were only dense forests. When everyone had almost lost hope, the trees suddenly parted and a small village appeared on the way.
— Full stop! - the driver shouted, and the cars slowed down and then stopped altogether.

Borya went out onto the platform. A small old man with a white beard down to his knees, wearing linden felt boots and a shirt embroidered with bright patterns, moved towards him from the station.
— Welcome to the village of Lapotkino! – the old man said loudly and bowed to Bora and the whole train. The train whistled loudly in response.
- Hello! - said the driver Borya. - We are in a difficult situation. We are running out of fuel, and it’s still a long way to go to another settlement. Could you help us?
- Help? – the old man scratched his gray head. - Yes, what kind of fuel do we have here? We have never seen him before.
Borya sighed heavily, realizing that they probably wouldn’t be able to get to their destination.

Meanwhile, Mitya’s trailer, standing at the very end of the train, which had not even entered the village, was admiring the beauty of the surrounding forest. He saw that the entire forest floor was strewn with dry fir cones, which kept falling and falling from the trees. And suddenly Mitya had a wonderful thought:
- Borya! - he shouted. – What if we refuel with these cones?
The driver Borya looked around, and the old man remarked with a smile:
- Yes, we have a lot of this stuff here!

All the villagers immediately poured out of their houses and began to collect cones. They worked together, and therefore everything was ready soon. As the train began to grind its wheels on the lump of fuel, an unusually fresh aroma filled the air.

The passengers clapped their hands joyfully, and the locomotive began to work even faster than before, and all the cars, helping it, increased their speed. The train arrived at its destination on time, and Borya presented the trailer Mitya with his first award badge for his special ingenuity.

Friendship can do anything

Once, in the train with which Mitya was traveling, a quarrel occurred. Nobody even remembered how it all started. Much more important was that now all the cars did not talk to each other. At first, the driver Borya tried to reconcile them. He came up with various fun games, sang friendly songs and used all the methods of reconciliation known to him. But nothing worked out for him.

The carriages were very proud. Neither of them wanted to be the first to make peace with the others.

At this time, the train was just heading to a remote village.
The carriage Mitya, who, as always, was driving last, really wanted to help the driver Bora reconcile the others. He was so lost in thought that he did not notice how the train pulled out onto a narrow bridge over a ravine. Here it was necessary to watch the paths especially carefully. But Mitya was not paying attention, and therefore unexpectedly went off the rails.

And now Mitya is already hanging in the ravine, and only the fragile clutch with the following carriage keeps him from falling.
- Stop the car! - the driver Borya shouted.
He jumped out of the locomotive and looked at Mitya in despair. But I couldn’t approach him. The bridge was very narrow. Then Borya began to give commands to the carriages:
- We pulled ourselves up! Smooth move! Stop! Again, and together, once...!

But the cars did not work smoothly, and therefore nothing worked for them. The driver Borya stamped his foot:
- Because of your quarrel, we cannot even help our comrade! If you don’t make peace now, Mitya’s trailer may fall and break!

Everyone lowered their eyes guiltily. And the old locomotive, who was the wisest, said:
- Friends, forgive me if I offended you in any way.
The carriage located behind the locomotive also said:
- And forgive me. I was wrong.

Each next carriage along the chain asked for forgiveness from their friends, and when they all confessed to something they no longer remembered, the driver said:
- That’s better. One cannot expect good from insults. Now let's try again.

After reconciliation, the carriages strained, gathered and pulled Mitya out together.

Everyone was very happy. The train moved on to the intended station. And Mitya’s trailer drove behind everyone and smiled slyly.

Guys, why do you think?

Last but not least

One day the train arrived at a large station. Here on the platform there was a great crowd of passengers. They were all impatiently clutching their luggage and really wanted to get into the carriages as quickly as possible.

As soon as the doors opened, people, pushing and overtaking each other, began to climb inside. When everyone was seated on the platform, some guy appeared. He was already late, and therefore he rushed so fast that the hairs on his head were disheveled and now looked like a weed bed.
- Give me my place! – the uncle shouted importantly.
“There are only empty seats in the last carriage,” they told him, and the carriage

Mitya happily opened his doors to his uncle.
“I don’t want to sit in the last carriage,” the uncle said offendedly. – I need the first carriage, or, at the very least, the second.
“But everything has been occupied there for a long time,” they answered him again.

The uncle had to go to the last carriage. He sat down in an empty seat, looking around displeasedly and buried his face in the newspaper.

After some time, the train reached the seashore. The wind rose and powerful waves splashed on the sea. The windows of all the carriages were wide open when one large wave came and covered the carriages. The passengers sitting in them were wet from head to toe. Mitya, who was driving last, saw what was happening ahead and closed his windows in time. Only its passengers remained dry.

At the nearest station, wet and dissatisfied people began to get out of the cars and complain to each other.

The late guy also went out at the station to get some fresh air and only now realized how lucky he was. He walked up to Mitya’s trailer and said:
- Now I understand that being last does not mean being the worst. Thank you very much for a wonderful trip.
Mitya puffed cheerfully:
- Puff-puff-puff!

Beware! Chestnut fall!

It was golden autumn. In autumn, nature seems especially beautiful. Multi-colored leaves hang on the trees - red, yellow, orange. But green is in no hurry to leave this palette.

The train was heading to the station long distance, through such autumn colorful forests. Everyone was in a wonderful mood. One of the passengers in Mitya's trailer even played the accordion.

Suddenly something hit the roof of the carriage with a crash. Once. Another time. And then it rolled like hail, so that Mitya and the other carriages began to shout:
- Oh! Mommies! It hurts!

The driver Borya gave the command: “Full speed back!”
When the train rolled back, the shelling stopped.
- What is this? – the passengers asked each other in surprise.

The driver Borya stood on the train steps and looked carefully ahead. Only now did he begin to understand “who” was shooting at them. Straight ahead, on both sides of the railroad tracks, chestnut trees grew. Ripe heavy chestnuts hung on them like apples on a branch. From the loud sound of the train wheels, the earth, and with it the trees, began to move, and chestnuts fell down.

Borya wanted to slip through again dangerous place, but the carriages protested:
- We won’t go! We don’t want to fill a hundred bumps at once!
The driver, and along with him the passengers, were confused. Will they really have to stand here like this until winter and wait for all the chestnuts to fall?

But then the trailer Mitya suggested:
- Let's go get some squirrels? They probably need to stock up for the winter.

Let them make their preparations here at once.
In car number three there was a biologist who knew the language of squirrels. He volunteered to be a translator, and within an hour the train, led by driver Borey, brought so many squirrels from other stations that the passengers sitting in the cars had to make room. The squirrels immediately pounced on the treats and filled their baskets to capacity. Not a single overripe chestnut was left behind! Then they were taken home, and the train safely continued its journey.

Mitya the trailer received another badge for his special ingenuity.

Watch out for cows

One day, while driving through evergreen alpine meadows, the train came across cows. The animals stood right on the rails and chewed juicy young grass. When driver Borya blew his horn, the cows only raised their heads in surprise, as if wanting to check who was bothering them.
They muttered angrily:
- Mooooo!
But they never left the road.

“We’ll have to wait until the cows leave on their own,” sighed the driver Borya. – If passengers find out about this, they will write a complaint.

The carriage Mitya really didn’t want the passengers to complain. And then he said loudly:
- Eh! What beauty all around! So many flowers and medicinal herbs! And how clean the air is here! What a pity that we can't make a short stop and stay here longer.

The passengers heard him, and some guy said:
“And indeed, it would be very nice to stay in these alpine meadows for at least an hour.”

And some old woman sighed:
“I have never walked in such beauty in my life.” Maybe I won’t go for a walk anymore.
And some children began to be capricious:
- We want to go for a walk! We want to go for a walk!

And their parents started crying too. All the passengers began to ask the driver to stop at least for a short time in such a wonderful place. And of course, the driver Borya replied that they could walk as long as they wanted. And he kept silent about the fact that the train couldn’t pass at all because of the cows.

The passengers walked until late at night, and returned only when the cows went to sleep. And everyone was very happy.

Unusual Passengers

It was in September. All the children went to school, and one collective farm decided to transport its horses far, far to the south, to a resort. Because animals should also relax at resorts!
One day the driver Borya came to the station for his train and saw: horses sitting in the carriages, their muzzles hanging out of the windows and breathing fresh air.
- What else is this? he asks.
“These,” they answer him, “are your new passengers.” – Take them south to the resort. Yes, look, don’t forget to graze along the road. Because horses need to eat.
The driver got into his locomotive and drove off:
- Tu-tu-oo-oo!!! – the train hummed cheerfully.
- E-go-go! – the horses neighed in response.

Now, time passes, the horses are not happy. They are not used to the railway. The smell of the train and the shaking make them sick. They started asking for a stop. There is nothing to do, they were stopped. The horses grazed, then back to the carriages and further on the road. As soon as we drove off, they asked us to stop again. And so a hundred times.
“Well,” says the driver, “we won’t cook porridge for you.” By winter you will reach your south.

Then the trailer Mitya suggests:
- Since the horses feel bad in the carriages, let them ride on the roof. There the air is fresh and you can pick leaves from the trees as you drive through the forest.
The driver really liked this idea. They put all the horses on the carriages, tied them with ropes so that they wouldn’t get caught, and off they went. Not very fast, but not as slow as with all the stops.
We arrived south on time. Again the trailer Mitya was praised.

Train Day

There are important holidays in the world. New Year, for example, or Birthday. There are special holidays - Doctor's Day, Teacher's Day, Policeman's Day. There is only no Train Day. But if you think that the work of trains is easy - ride wherever you want all year round, enjoy the views - then everything is completely wrong! What is a train? That's right - carriages and locomotive. And also a driver, but he has his own holiday - it’s called Railway Worker’s Day. The carriages carry passengers, make sure that everyone likes everything, that it doesn’t sway too much, that it doesn’t blow too much, so that no one misses their station. If instead of carriages there were, say, carts on a rope or sleighs - that would be a completely different conversation. And carriages are CARS. They are important!

One day at the depot, during a long break, the cars were talking:
- Why are they never congratulating us? - said one carriage.
“And in fact, they give others gifts, praise them with kind words, and wish for something, but we are always on the sidelines,” others chimed in.
Someone suggested - let’s be offended and not go to work until we are also congratulated?

Everyone really liked this idea, and from that moment the carriages decided to go on strike.

The carriage Mitya was sad because the next day the train was not going anywhere. He loved his job very much, but even more he loved the kind driver Borya, who would probably be very upset when he learned about the strike.

And then the trailer Mitya came up with the idea of ​​organizing a big holiday for his comrades and calling it Train Day.

Some particularly grateful passengers agreed to help him. They drew large congratulatory posters and bought firecrackers and balloons. And at night, when all the carriages were asleep, passengers came with rags and buckets and washed the floors, windows and even the walls of the entire train. The next morning everything was sparkling clean.
The carriages woke up, and they were shouting from all sides:
- Congratulations! Happy Train Day!!! Hurray!!!

That was such a joy! Everyone was happy, and the strike immediately ended.

AuthorPublishedCategoriesTags

TALE Mitenka is running! I'm running!

Little Mitenka was walking with his grandmother on the playground. Other guys were also walking around here. Each of them had their own car. Mitenka has a small toy truck. The children lowered the cars down the children's slide, filled them with sand, small twigs and pebbles, rolled the cars along a pre-established track and then dumped the loads into a common pile. It was great. Until the wheel of Mitenka’s car fell off. The tough guy sat down on the ground and roared at the top of his voice:

- Ba-bu-s-ka! Boo-boo!

In response to the shout, a lively granny in a colorful scarf jumped up from the bench:
- I’m running, Mitenka! I'm running! - the old woman shouted.
She rushed to help her grandson and, in the blink of an eye, fixed the broken wheel. Mitenka began to play further.

Now third-grader Mitenka is riding her bicycle around the yard, surrounded by friends. He's having so much fun, the wind is blowing his curly red hair. Somewhere stray dogs are barking loudly, but the boys don’t care, because they are on vacation - the most fun and carefree time in the world.

Suddenly, the wheel of Mitenka’s bicycle falls off. The boy stops and shouts at the top of his lungs in a melodious, ringing voice:
- Grandmother! Grandmother!

An old woman’s head in a colorful scarf pokes out from the window of a neighboring house:
- I’m running, Mitenka! I'm running! - she screams, and a second later the grandmother jumps out of the gate of her house with a screwdriver and some other tongs. She quickly bends down and screws the fallen wheel back onto the bicycle. Mitenka sits on it and rides on to catch up with her comrades.

Now Mitenka is already quite an adult. He is a technical student. He has a nice thick mustache and is wearing a black studded biker jacket, a shiny helmet and sunglasses. And Mitenka himself rushes faster than the wind on his two-wheeled motorcycle. Suddenly, the motorcycle begins to puff, roar and snort: Puff-puff-puff-frrrrrrr... It seems that its engine has stalled. But it doesn't matter. Mitenka clears her throat and shouts in a loud bass voice to the whole street:

- Grandmother! Grandmother!
- I’m running, Mitenka! I'm running!

An old woman in a colorful headscarf and with a set of special tools to boot immediately jumps out onto the road. She runs up to the motorcycle and, rolling up her sleeves, begins fiddling with some screwdrivers, tweezers and other useful things. Not even an hour has passed before the motorcycle is back on the road, and Mitenka, as before, is racing on it into unknown distances.

Now Mitenka is a huge, pot-bellied guy in a formal suit with a diplomat. He is driving his brand new Mercedes to a very important business meeting. But suddenly, the engine of Mitenka’s car stalls. What a disaster! So you might not be able to make it to the meeting in time! Mitenka gets out of the Mercedes, looks sadly at the wheel and yells in a rough male voice:

- Grandmother! Grandmother!

Out of nowhere a grandmother appears in a colorful scarf:
- I’m running, Mitenka! I'm running! - she screams and rushes at full speed towards the Mercedes.

Grandma is carrying a cart full of all sorts of fancy gadgets. How could it be otherwise? After all, a foreign car cannot be repaired with a simple screwdriver! Grandma opens the hood and does something there for a long time.

- Hurry up, ba! - Mitenka, her uncle, hurries her, “I’ll be late for an important meeting!”

“Now, now,” says the grandmother and fiddles with the instruments under the hood even faster. The car is repaired and now, happy Mitenka is again rushing along the road in his expensive Mercedes.

Next year Mitenka and her family are planning to fly to Turkey at sea. Guess who he will never forget to take with him?

(Based on the television magazine "Yeralash")

READ a fairy tale about cars

Sanya and Vanya were sitting on a bench and dangling their legs. They were very happy because the school holidays had begun. Sanya ate Alenka's chocolate, and Vanya had already eaten his half and was now just licking his dirty fingers.

Suddenly, a black car drove up to the house near which they were sitting. The boys had never seen such a model before, although both were well-known experts on cars. A dapper boy who looked to be barely eighteen quickly jumped out of the car. He slammed the shiny new door, and as he entered the entrance from the back, he clicked the alarm button. The boys looked after him respectfully.

“Some people are lucky,” Sanya muttered, swallowing the last piece of chocolate. “When I grow up, I’ll also buy myself a car.” The coolest one.
“And I’ll buy it,” Vanya picked up. – One that can drive itself and doesn’t even require steering.
Sanya chuckled:
— There are no such cars!
“It doesn’t happen now, but when I grow up they’ll invent it.” And in general, I saw on TV that they are already being tested.
- Well, where will you get the money for such a car? – Sanya asked with interest.
- No matter where, I’ll make money, of course. Where are you on yours?
- And I will earn money.

Then high school student Fedor came out of the neighboring house. He had headphones in his ears, and a brand new game console in his hands. Fyodor managed, without looking, to go down the steps, go around all the ditches and potholes on the prehistoric asphalt and turn around the corner of the house, without even looking at the guys.

Sanya immediately remarked:
— There will also be a game console in my car. All over the windshield. You press a button and instead of glass there is a computer game. Racing, for example, or shooting games.

Vanya doubted:
- But if there is a console on the glass, how are you going to steer?
- So you said that when we grow up, cars will drive themselves.
“Well, yes, yes,” Vanya agreed.
The boys sat for a little longer and then went home.

At dinner, Sanya told his parents that he was going to buy himself a car. Dad seriously asked his son about the model, color, wheels and many other special things that only boys could understand. And then Sanya talked about a game console instead of a windshield. Dad approved the proposal. I only added that in such a smart and extremely useful car There should also be a device for making sandwiches and a fermentation mechanism.

“And a chewing gum and candy dispenser,” Sanya noted dreamily.

Mom, who had been silent all this time, suddenly noticed that it would be nice to attach a dining and cleaning device to this machine, because now she was offended that the machine was useful for everyone, but for her, mom, it was useless.

Sanya reluctantly agreed. But then dad said that he was happy to exchange his water-filling mechanism for a money-dispensing device, which would probably be very small and would certainly take up less space than a dining and apartment cleaning device. Sanya wanted to add something, but no one was listening to him. Mom and Dad vied with each other to list everything that needed to be installed in his, Sanya’s, new car.

At night, Sanya had a strange dream. Vanya was driving along the road in a brand new black car of an unknown model. He looked almost exactly like the dapper boy they had seen earlier that day. Sanya sluggishly trudged behind him on a hefty shapeless unit, stuffed with a vacuum cleaner, a lawn mower, barrels of kvass and various other gizmos. Passers-by laughed and pointed at Sanya. He wanted to turn from a busy street into some alley, but could not do this, because the glass suddenly turned into computer game. Sanya wanted to slow down, but he couldn’t either. The car drove itself, without pedals or steering wheel. Sanya screamed loudly, trying to call for help, and woke up.

The next morning they met Vanya again on the site. The unknown black car was still parked near the entrance. Vanya, with the air of an expert, walked around her several times and said:

- No, the car is certainly cool, but when I grow up I’ll buy myself an even better one. “Without waiting for an answer, he asked himself, “And you, Sanchez, what kind of car do you want?” Tags

Tanya and I decided to build a car. You might think it's so difficult? Moreover, we already had serious experience in designing equipment. I lived on the tenth floor, and she lived on the ninth, and her room was located just below my room. So, once we took several meters of a rubber cord from my grandfather, stretched it from my window to her window, tied a funnel on each side and we got a telephone. And, I must say, it worked properly. Moreover, at that time even home wired telephones with wheels were rare. Only two kids in our class had these.

So, the experience gained while creating our own telephone apparatus inspired us to more serious experiments. Just think about it - how convenient is it to have a car? If you wanted to, you sat down and went, and you don’t have to wait for the bus. If you want, go to the park, but if you want, go to the country. Freedom!
The main problem was not even finding suitable materials. The point is to decide what kind of machine we should build.

Tanya argued that for the sake of convenience, wings and a motor should be attached to the car, like a helicopter, because the roof is closer to us. We'll make a runway there, get the keys to the fire hatch, and fly whenever we want. But, I could not agree with such recklessness. What if dad accidentally sees us climbing out onto the roof? What if the neighbor grannies from downstairs notice us and report everything to our parents? I really didn’t want to spend the rest of the summer locked up at home ( even with your own phone!). As they say, a car is not a luxury, but a means of transportation. This is what you need to do ordinary a vehicle to go outside without anyone pointing a finger.

Not far from our house there were garages in a former quarry. One day, while walking there, we found an open no one's garage full of all sorts of necessary gizmos. Of course, if all this belonged to someone, we would never have taken even a carnation. But, my friends, if no one comes to the garage after five or even ten minutes, then the owner does not exist at all! In short, we drove off from there with two wheels, with grief in half. They were very heavy. And then two more. The wheels were dirty, so we had to hide them under the basement porch of our house.

Wheels for a car are ninety percent of success! All that remains is to figure out what to put on these wheels, how to secure them, and what to make the steering wheel out of.
The original idea did not come immediately. Oddly enough, it was suggested to us by four-year-old Vovchik, from whom we usually tried to hide anywhere so as not to bother with this small fry. Vovchik followed his older brother Sasha like a tail, and since Sasha studied in the same class with us, and even lived in the same yard, it turned out that we were walking alone big company five minutes to the third graders, with Vovchik to boot.

In the evening, near the slide, a long discussion took place on the topic “Rights and freedoms of primary school students.” Having embarked on the slippery slope of the automotive industry, Tanya and I believed that children should certainly be given documents allowing them to drive a car. The other guys, as always, supported us. Someone suggested writing a petition to an unknown location. It was a great idea that we all eagerly began to develop. And little Vovchik, hanging around as always, brought a cardboard box from somewhere, sat in it and began to play:

- Beep! I'm the driver! Scatter, people!

And then I was struck by lightning! I looked at Tanya. She, it seems, got sick too.
- Box! – we shouted, almost out loud, and rushed to God knows where.

More precisely, it is known. To where we handed over waste paper every summer, next to the sawmill. There were many, VERY many unattended boxes lying around there. Different boxes. Big and small, strong and almost soft.

We almost immediately found the right one for ourselves. It was a brand new box, made of very thick cardboard. Such a box could easily fit me, Tanya, and one of the other guys.

With this box we returned to the basement where we left our wheels. We only had one hour left. Because at exactly nine we were supposed to go home, drink a glass of milk and cookies, brush our teeth and go to bed ( or pretend we went to bed).

Since we really wanted to try out our new invention today, we started working very quickly. We found four strong boards, secured a wheel on each side, crosswise, to form a strong base for the box. We used a utility knife to cut out the windows of the car, attached a steering wheel - a round broken clock from the wall of Tanya’s kitchen ( by the way, about the fact that they already don't work, parents more didn't know) and rolled out our creation into the light of God.

A true master must take criticism calmly. Therefore, when we heard a neighbor from the first floor window exclaim: “Again, these children are collecting all sorts of rubbish in garbage dumps!” — they didn’t take offense. Let's wait until on Saturday morning she stands at the bus stop waiting for the country bus, and we go on this... that is, on this... in short, on our OWN car.

The sky was cloudy. The next day it was raining, and Tanya noticed with disappointment that the cardboard was getting wet from the water. But, like all girls, she immediately responded to her remark:
— We need to take a large raincoat and cover our car with it. Then it won't get wet.

I didn't mind the raincoat.

We somehow pushed the car from the basement to roadway, climbed inside and barely had time to pick up their feet - the car rolled downhill.
She was driving fast. Much faster than you might expect. A fresh summer breeze blew through the windows. We felt absolutely happy! Gagarin was probably just as happy when he made his first flight into space.

There were no other cars nearby. There aren't that many of them in our area at all. But there was still one Cossack standing at the traffic light. It had brakes. Our car does not. The Cossack's steering wheel rotated in different directions, and this caused the wheels to rotate. Our car's steering wheel also rotated, but the wheels did not react to it at all. I don’t know how this whole idea could have turned out if two wheels of our car hadn’t suddenly fallen off at once. We spun once and twice, but we still managed to avoid a collision with the Cossack.

Do you think that after this Tanya and I got upset and went home? That's right, but first they took with them two wheels that had fallen off and two more, which were also not tightly held on the boards. We barely managed to push them to our house. It was then that the owner of no one’s garage met us.

...Since that day I have dreamed of moving to a big city. Well, judge for yourself, let’s say the garage wasn’t owned by anyone, and we accidentally took these wheels. Where, tell me, how did the whole area know about this within two hours?! Is it really possible to ruin the initiatives of young people like this? No, it's not like that in big cities. There, if you got somewhere four new ones ( as it turned out Tags

One day she needed help too. That's how it was.

The machine learned that the farthest store had brought some rare sweets, such as it had never tried. The day was approaching evening. I could have gone for candy tomorrow, but I really wanted to go today. She decided to take a short route through the forest. The forest is damp after rain, the wheels slip and skid on the wet grass. The car was in a hurry, in a hurry, and suddenly it fell into a deep puddle, the bottom of which was filled with viscous mud. The car got stuck up to the headlights, I was very upset, but I didn’t lose hope - I was thinking about how to get out. And then he hears: a tractor rumbles and approaches. She was delighted and called him for help: “Pull me out, I’m late for the store, it will close soon.” The tractor muttered something under its breath and drove on. The machine was upset, she remembered how once a tractor, absent-minded and thoughtful in nature, lost a trailer with a valuable cargo, and she found it and guarded it all night... And now the forest is gloomy and scary, as it was then. Shivering chillily and closing her eyes tightly, she decided to take a nap until the morning.

Through the howling of the wind and the noise of the beginning of the rain, the machine heard strange sounds: as if someone was singing. Turning on the headlights, she saw a tractor and next to it people tying a tow rope. Everyone was wet and dirty, but at the same time satisfied and happy. They were happy that they had found their pet and, with the help of a tractor, could help her out of an unpleasant situation. And the tractor sang about friendship and love, about the candy that he still managed to buy for the machine, despite his slowness and clumsiness, about the fact that good deeds are not forgotten, they multiply and return to those who do this good, who radiate warmth and light!

P.S. This fairy tale was my son’s favorite in his early childhood. Now he has become a military man, following in the footsteps of his father, and is raising a daughter. My eldest daughter, like me, works at school as my deputy for scientific and methodological work and teaches history.

All my adult life I have been writing poems for holidays, birthdays, even for lessons, to make it easier for children to remember definitions and wording:

If the body puts a lot of pressure on the support or suspension,

This force is called very simply - it is weight.

The body changed speed

and the reason for this is strength!

Negative charge -

I'm glad for the positive!

Having met my own brother,

runs away without looking back.

The weight of the liquid that the body

Managed to displace

Usually equal to force Archimedes.

This is his merit and victory!

What is the electric current in metals?

That is a free flow of electrons!

The path is the length of the line,

Along which you are driving.

There is pressure inside the liquid

Same in all directions

But at the same level,

If it's deeper, there's more pressure.

If snow falls from the roof,

That's on his head

Who doesn't hear in physics,

Why and why

All bodies fly to the ground

Instead of rushing to heaven.

Without physical laws

Find out and try it yourself!

village Shaikovka, Kirovsky district, Kaluga region

03.11.2016

A little boy, Vanya, lived in one cozy house. Like most boys his age, he loved playing with friends, watching interesting cartoons and reading fairy tales about cars. Most of all, Vanya loved the story about the rescue team, so he really wanted Polly the robotic car to be given to him for his birthday. Imagine the boy’s disappointment when, instead of the desired toy, he received an ordinary truck with a red body and a blue cab. Vanya threw it into the basket with the old cars and quickly forgot about it.
Every evening, my mother read entertaining stories to her son about everything in the world. Since fairy tales about cars are the most interesting for boys, they were the ones that were heard most often in the room. The little truck listened with pleasure to stories about brave rescuers and secretly dreamed that one day he too would become so famous. He was very upset that they didn’t play with him at all, because life in old box was boring and dreary. The truck hoped that if he managed to prove himself as a brave rescuer, then Vanya would look at him differently and would definitely fall in love with him.

A fairy tale about cars: how to become a hero

Days after days passed in dreams and expectations of the right moment for the feat. From time to time, the truck woke up with the confidence that an event would happen today that could change his life, and sometimes he was completely desperate and upset. But Vanya’s mother’s fascinating evening stories did not let him give up and added courage and optimism.


One day, a dispute began among Vanya’s toys about who was more important: robots or dinosaurs. The truck was rooting for the first ones and was very happy, because they almost always won. But then one day he saw that the robots were behaving dishonestly and the dinosaurs were about to suffer a residual defeat. This was terribly unfair, so in one minute the truck changed its favorite team, because those who act dishonestly do not deserve respect and support.
“If they could move faster, everything would be different.” – the truck said out loud and before he had time to come to his senses, he was already rushing to the aid of the dinosaurs.
- Sit down, I'll give you a ride! – he shouted and boldly rushed into battle with the main dinosaur in the back. Other old cars followed the example of the brave truck. With their help, dinosaurs were able to attack robots faster and defeat injustice.


The little boy was very surprised by the act of the forgotten toys. He realized his mistake, walked up to the truck and picked it up.
“I had no idea that you were so brave.” You rushed to the aid of the dinosaurs, like Polly the robocar with a team of rescuers. I'm proud of you, my truck Polly!
The truck was truly happy, and so were the old cars, because Vanya decided that it was bad to forget about old comrades, and no longer left the toys in a boring box, but played with everyone in turn.

We have created more than 300 cat-free casseroles on the Dobranich website. Pragnemo perevoriti zvichaine vladannya spati u native ritual, spovveneni turboti ta tepla.Would you like to support our project? We will continue to write for you with renewed vigor!

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