"Ahhh..." Berger sighs. "So I should tell you where it was, when it was, what it was?"
"Not really. I know where it was and everything," I explain, "I just..." Berger smiles, and picks up the first picture - "You know when this was?" Actually, I don't...
"That was in Riccione," he begins. "It's near Rimini, the karting place I always went to when I was a boy."
"Nice overalls," I remark.
"Nice overalls? Yeah, yeah, right..." he smirks. "That was just a rental from the place! And it was a really funny thing, you know...
"When I was a boy I liked to go karting so much and do the racing, but my father didn't like it and didn't support me, and so I had no chance. So then what I did when I was a little bit older, when I was about 14, 15, 16, I used to go with the truck drivers" - Berger's father ran a successful trucking company in Austria - "to Italy and Germany, because they always used to let me drive when they were tired. They could sleep and I could drive the trucks - that was great stuff.
"So we used to go pick up paprika in Ancona and fill the whole truck; 24 tonnes of paprika to take to Germany. So what I used to do was stop at this karting place, open the truck, and for each time I was driving, I gave them paprika - I paid in paprikas!
"I remember once when I stopped the truck for three days - I disappeared, and nobody could find me. I was paying with the goods of the truck, and the problem was I was missing a lot when I came back. And, there was also a weekend between when it was hot, and the whole thing was gone because it took too long for me to get to Germany and all the paprika was broken, it was missing - there was a big casino going on! But that's how I used to pay for my karting."