Milk. Winter. Tram.

The story I'll tell you happened when the age of Grandma (great) Manya was already so respectable that it was indecent to mention it. It started as always: the doctor called the great-grandmother's relatives and reported another incident. This time, everything was dire: Manya broke her arm.

It's hard to be angry at an older person who breaks their arm because, as a rule, older people don't break their limbs on purpose. In addition, it happened in winter, and there was terrible ice in Odessa. For example, I wasn't confident even in my ability to cover long distances on foot. But, as usual, there is a nuance to this story.

As a rule, such ice ages are rare in the southern city and last no more than five days. So, an old lady with countless relatives ready to provide her with everything she needs can easily sit out Armageddon at home. But let me remind you, we are talking about Manya.

When doctors put Manya in a cast, relatives gathered around her to get answers to burning questions. Firstly, where? Secondly, why?

Great-grandma, innocently looking at everyone through her square-framed glasses and stroking her cast, shrugged her shoulders and said, "Nothing special happened. I went out to get some milk. The car has arrived."

The thing is that, in the olden days, a car with a milk tank arrived in Odessa courtyards. People came to her with their containers of various sizes and bought milk. Some people believed this milk was a high-quality product and didn't want to buy pasteurized milk in stores or natural milk in markets. And here is an important point: Grandma (great) Manya wasn't one of them. Therefore, she was reasonably reminded she could have just called, asked for milk and received it the same day. And that's why relatives didn't believe her one iota when she suddenly announced the proper milk could only be bought from a car. However, she wasn't worried her explanations weren't plausible because no one could refute them.

That would have been the end of the story, but one of the relatives decided to ask Manya a few more questions.

"Grandma, but the car always stops near the entrance to the building. And there is no ice there today. How did you fall?" he asked.

"I ran," Great-grandmother, who had lost her vigilance, answered shortly.

"Where did you run?" another relative wondered carefully.

"I was running to catch the tram!" Manya blurted out irritably and fell silent abruptly.

Silence reigned in the room. Gogol Street (where Grandma (great) Manya lived) hadn't even rails.

Needless to say, we never found out where she broke her arm, where she was going that day, or why she had to take the tram. I hasten to inform you Manya's hand was successfully fused, and she used it for a long time in her dangerous adventures. But unfortunately, her instinct of self-preservation never grew.