Karl-Friedrich Scheufele’s garage



There’s a tractor double-parked outside the boulangerie of a tiny village in the Swiss canton of Vaud. Small, bright red, quaintly cute. It stands in sharp contrast to the automotive high society here on the shores of Lake Geneva—or Lac Léman, as it’s called in French. Stately luxury sedans and sleek sports cars vie for supremacy on local roads; cosmopolitan Geneva and Lausanne—known as the “Olympic capital”—are not far away. Yet somehow the tractor fits in all the same. It’s…



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