The ‘Tin-Can’ British Tank From The Falklands That Now Hunts Russians In Ukraine – hWW

April 2025. A muddy field outside a Ukrainian training center. The vehicle moving across the screen looks wrong. It looks fundamentally wrong. The hull is too small. The armor is too thin. The shape belongs in a museum next to relics from the Falklands War, not on a battlefield in 2026. And the main cannon, the 30-mm British Rarden, has been ripped out and replaced with a Soviet machine gun.

Four antennas bristle around the turret like the legs of a dying spider. All of them aimed at jamming Russian drones. This is the FV107 Scimitar. It first rolled out of an Alvis factory in 1971. It fought a war in 1982 on islands most British soldiers had never heard of. And by some accident of history and engineering, it is now one of the most useful vehicles in the Ukrainian army.

To understand why, you have to go back to a different muddy field, the Falklands, June 13, 1982. The peat was so soft that Argentine armor sat stranded in Stanley, unable to move. Argentine Land Rovers bogged down. Even British Land Rovers bogged down. The defenders had picked the terrain itself as a weapon, and it worked against everyone except the Blues and Royals.

The British sent two troops of light tanks south on the MV Elk. Three troop under Lieutenant Robert Innes-Ker. Four troop under Lieutenant Mark Coreth. Two Scorpions and two Scimitars each. Eight vehicles total with about 30 men. They came ashore at San Carlos on May 21. The Scimitar called 23 Charlie was the first off the landing craft.

The crew joked they had been used as guinea pigs to test how deep the water was. What made these vehicles different was not their guns. It was their footprint. The Scimitar weighed under 8 tons. Its tracks were nearly half a meter wide. Its ground pressure was 0.36 kg per square centimeter.

That is lighter than a walking infantryman. On the night of June 13, two Para assaulted Wireless Ridge. After Goose Green, where Lieutenant Colonel H. Jones had won a posthumous Victoria Cross, and infantry had attacked without armor support, Lieutenant Colonel David Chandler had sworn his men would never again go in without fire support.

He got it. Three troop crawled across peat that should have stopped them. Fired from ridgelines using passive night sights the Argentines did not have, and destroyed the 7th Argentine Infantry Regiment’s positions one bunker at a time. When Lance Corporal of Horse Dunkley was knocked unconscious inside Scimitar 23 Bravo, Captain Roger Field climbed in and fought the vehicle through the rest of the night himself.

The next morning, four CVR(T) light tanks led 2 Para into Stanley. A Union Jack flew from the radio antenna of 23 Bravo. General Sir John Frost later said the speed and accuracy of the Blues and Royals fire had been, in his words, a severe shock to the enemy. The Scimitar had won its war on mud the same way it would later win in a different one.

By being too light to sink. Now, look at what the Scimitar is actually made of. The 30 mm L21A1 Rarden cannon does not fire like other autocannons. It fires three-round clips loaded by hand. Maximum burst is six rounds before the gunner has to reload. Cyclic rate is just 90 rounds per minute.

Compare that to the Russian BMP-2’s belt-fed 2A42 autocannon, which spits 550 rounds per minute in long suppression bursts. But the Rarden was never meant to suppress. It was meant to kill cleanly with two rounds from far away. The cartridge is 30 by 170 mm, longer than the Russian round. The APDS projectile leaves the muzzle at 1,170 m/s.

Effective range is 2,000 m. Accuracy is a grouping of 1 m at a range of 1,000 m. That is rifle precision from a tank gun. This was a scout’s weapon, not a brawler’s. The Scimitar was designed to spot a Soviet reconnaissance vehicle on the North German plain before that vehicle spotted you, Kill it with two well-placed rounds and disappear.

The hull is welded aluminum alloy. The British called it AS7017. It is roughly equivalent to 12.7 mm of rolled steel. Proof against 14.5 mm armor-piercing rounds in the frontal arc. Proof against rifle fire all around. Anything heavier, a rocket-propelled grenade, an anti-tank guided missile, a BMP’s main gun, an artillery splinter at close range will go straight through.

This is where the tin can comes from. The armor is not steel. The armor is paper thin by modern standards. The vehicle was built on the assumption that being seen first meant dying first. So, the answer was not to get seen. The Jaguar petrol engine in the original Mark 1 was the same block as the Jaguar XK sports car.

The Mark 2 upgrade swapped in a Cummins diesel that pushed the range to 640 km. Top speed remained 80 km/h. Two Scimitars fit inside a C-130 Hercules. A Chinook helicopter can sling one underneath. Britain built around 600 of these vehicles and retired the type from frontline service in April 2023. Quick moment here. If you’re enjoying this deep dive into British engineering, a like on this video genuinely helps the channel grow.

Now, back to where these Scimitars went next. August 2023. Rheinmetall BAE Systems Land in Telford finished refurbishing 23 Scimitar Mark 2’s in 32 days. Bar armor bolted on. Electronic interference systems installed. The vehicles shipped to Ukraine. This was the first formal British Scimitar transfer of the war.

What followed was a slow flood. In May 2024, Prime Minister Rishi Sunak announced a 500 million pound aid package, the largest single tranche to date. It included 162 armored vehicles, a mix of AS90 howitzers and CVR(T) family scouts. Defense Minister James Cartlidge confirmed in a written parliamentary answer that the British Army held 114 CVR-T vehicles, of which 97 were Scimitars, all marked for disposal.

Most went east. By August of that year, Army Technology estimated around 150 CVR-T family vehicles had crossed into Ukraine across the war. Then in March 2026, Latvia began transferring its own ex-British Scimitars and Spartans, drawn from a fleet of 198, to equip a Ukrainian battalion. The Ukrainians did not use them the way the British had.

In March 2025, the 242nd unit training center published a video. In it, crews trained on Scimitars whose turrets had been heavily modified. The 30-mm RARDEN cannon, the weapon the vehicle was designed around, had been removed entirely. In its place sat a Soviet 14.5-mm KPVT heavy machine gun.

Defense Express, the Ukrainian military analysis outlet, called it brutal pragmatism. The RARDEN was accurate, but its three-round clips and slow cyclic rate were a liability in a war fought at close range against infantry, drones, and lightly armored trucks. The KPVT fires belt-fed at 600 rounds per minute.

The ammunition is Soviet caliber, plentiful in Ukrainian stocks. The RARDEN’s specialized British ammunition has to cross the channel. The same vehicles had four antennas mounted around their turrets. Each one was an electronic warfare emitter aimed at jamming the frequencies used by Russian FPV drones. The Scimitar had been designed to die from being seen.

Now it was being modified to make itself impossible to target. This is the most important fact about the Scimitar in Ukraine. As of mid-2026, Oryx, the open-source loss tracker that visually verifies every destroyed vehicle, has confirmed exactly one Scimitar destroyed in in war. Compare that to the FV103 Spartan, the troop carrier variant from the same family, which has lost 39.

The Scimitars are being kept alive. Whoever is operating them is being very careful with them. Who is operating them is harder to pin down. Ukrainian Ground Forces Command, according to fundraiser Serhiy Prytula, forbids the disclosure of details about which brigade got what. The 80th, 82nd, and 95th Air Assault Brigades have all received British armor of one kind or another.

The 82nd led the Kursk Incursion of August 2024. But no Ukrainian brigade has publicly confirmed operating Scimitars in combat. What we can say is what the Scimitar offers that nothing else does. The Russian BMP-2 sits at a ground pressure of 0.63. The American M3 Bradley sits at 0.53. The Leopard 2 main battle tank that Ukraine fields sits at 0.89.

A T-72, the Russian workhorse, sits at 0.83. The Scimitar, with its aluminum hull and its wide tracks, sits below all of them in the band of a foot soldier. In Ukrainian Chernozem mud, the kind that turns into a soft black soup every spring and autumn during the Rasputitsa, a Bradley can get stuck where a Scimitar walks across.

A T-90, the most modern Russian tank, sinks in fields the Scimitar crosses without slowing. The same aluminum hull that makes it vulnerable to anything bigger than a rifle is also what lets it weigh under 13 tons. The same physics that mattered on Falklands peat now matters on Ukrainian black earth. The Scimitar is not destroying Russian tanks.

Open-source intelligence has not credited a single Russian vehicle to a Scimitar’s RARDEN cannon in this war. What it is doing is harder to film. It is creeping through tree lines that other reconnaissance vehicles cannot reach. It is sitting in overwatch positions on muddy ridgelines, using optics to spot Russian columns before the columns spot it.

It is feeding targets to Ukrainian artillery and HIMARS launchers. It is doing exactly what it was designed to do in 1971. Reconnaissance, screening, the deeply unfashionable work of seeing first. The Ukrainian Ministry of Defense’s own official statement on the Scimitar emphasizes its lightweight aluminum alloy hull and its low ground pressure, noting that the wide tracks prevent the vehicle from becoming bogged down in sand or mud.

That is the closest thing to an official endorsement that exists in print. Now, consider what the Scimitar is competing against. The American M3 Bradley has dominated from this war. Forbes correspondent David Axe has called it the best fighting vehicle of the Ukraine conflict. In early 2024, two Bradleys disabled a Russian T-90M outside of Divka in an engagement that defined the platform’s reputation.

But, the Bradley weighs three to four times what a Scimitar weighs. It is loud. It is large. It carries TOW anti-tank missiles, second-generation thermal sights, and applique armor that can shrug off 30-mm hits. It cannot fit inside a Hercules transport. It cannot be slung under a Chinook. It cannot cross a field that has been raining on for 2 weeks.

The Russian BMD-2 airborne fighting vehicle is the Scimitar’s closest weight peer. Both are aluminum-hulled. Both weigh around 8 tons. The BMD-2 has a heavier punch with its 2A42 cannon and its anti-tank missile rails. But, the Scimitar has better range, better accuracy at distance, and 40% lower ground pressure.

The BMD, ironically, was built for the Soviet Airborne Forces who are now being bled white attacking Ukraine. The Scimitar and the Bradley are not competitors. They are doctrinal opposites. The Bradley fights its way through. The Scimitar slips around. In a war where Russian electronic warfare jams everything and Russian artillery hunts anything that moves loudly, slipping around has become a survival strategy.

There is a question that has hovered over every story about Western armor in Ukraine since 2022. Why did this work? The Challengers, the Leopards, the Abrams, the Bradleys. Why does old British or German or American engineering hold up against modern Russian fire? The answer in the Scimitar’s case is honest and slightly uncomfortable.

The vehicle works because its designers in 1971 made an assumption that turned out to be correct 55 years later. They assumed that the future of armored reconnaissance was not heavier armor. It was lower visibility. It was lower weight. It was getting somewhere first and leaving before being hit. That philosophy has aged better than almost anything else in the British defense inventory.

The Challenger, the Warrior, the Saxon, the Saracen, the FV432, all of these were designed around either heavy direct fire or troop transport. They have all aged differently. The Scimitar alone was designed around a problem that the Ukrainian battlefield has now made urgent again. Russian FPV drones cost a few hundred dollars each. They hunt main battle tanks worth millions. A Leopard cannot hide.

A T-90 cannot hide. A Bradley cannot hide. But a small aluminum vehicle sitting in a tree line with electronic warfare antennas humming, supported by tracks wide enough to cross a flooded field, has a fighting chance to never be seen at all. The Falklands taught the British a lesson the British eventually forgot. Ukraine has remembered it for them.

The vehicle that came off the landing craft at San Carlos on May 21, 1982, has now been donated, modified, jammed up with antennas, rearmed with Soviet machine guns, and sent forward into ground its designers never imagined. And it is, against every reasonable expectation, still alive out there. There are now perhaps 100 Scimitars on the Eastern Front, give or take.

Britain has emptied its disposal yards into Ukraine. Latvia is sending more. The British Army does not operate the Scimitar anymore. The Ukrainian Army increasingly does. Some of those vehicles still have their RARDEN cannons. Some have KPVT machine guns instead. All of them have electronic warfare emitters.

All of them carry in some quiet way the ghost of two para assaulting wireless ridge under naval gunfire and the ghost of a captain climbing into a Scimitar whose commander had just been knocked out cold. The Scimitar was never the most powerful British weapon. It was never the most photogenic. It was never the one that won the headlines, but it was always the one that arrived first, saw what no one else could see, and left before the enemy understood what had happened.

That is the job in Ukraine in 2026. That has been the job since 1971. And there is now strong evidence that no other western light armored vehicle of any era does this particular job better. The aluminum hull does not stop much. The cannon fires three rounds at a time. The vehicle has no thermal imager on most variants.

By every modern metric, the Scimitar is obsolete except for the one metric that actually matters. Out of roughly 150 CVR(T) family vehicles donated by Britain across this war, the Scimitar has the lowest verified loss rate of any variant in the family. A 1971 design in 2026 doing its job quietly, almost invisibly, from a tree line in a country its engineers had never heard of, watching a Russian column it was never supposed to fight.

The vehicle that came back from the Falklands, still hunting.

QQ4 Bob Dylan and Keith Richards have been close friends for nearly 40 years. The friendship began on a live television program in November of 1986 in the 11 seconds after Bob Dylan called Keith Richards music derivative on camera. Keith Richard’s response to that assessment, one sentence said without anger, without performance, with the specific directness of a man who has nothing to prove and knows it made Bob Dylan laugh.

Then made Bob Dylan go quiet. then made Bob Dylan say two words that people who know Bob Dylan say he almost never said to anyone. This is the story of those 11 seconds and the 40 years that followed them. The program was a live music interview special broadcast on an American network on the evening of November 3rd, 1986. The format was simple.

Two musicians, a host, an hour of conversation about music and the state of it. The producers had assembled the pairing of Bob Dylan and Keith Richards with the specific calculation of television producers who understand that two people with equally strong and potentially incompatible views about what music is and what it should do will produce better television than two people who agree about everything.

The calculation was correct, though not in the way the producers had anticipated. Bob Dylan was 45 years old in November of 1986. Bob Dylan had released Empire Burlesque the previous year and had been on the road for most of the intervening period as part of the True Confessions tour with Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.

Bob Dylan was in November of 1986 in one of the most prolific and restless phases of a career that had consisted almost entirely of prolific and restless phases. A career that had moved through folk, rock, country, gospel, and back again, that had been declared finished at least six times by the music press, and at each time continued with the serene indifference of a river to the opinions of people standing on its banks.

Bob Dylan had been redefining what music could be. Since 1962, Bob Dylan had invented and reinvented himself so many times that reinvention had become his defining characteristic, not in the superficial sense of a performer changing costumes, but in the deeper sense of a musician who had never allowed his work to settle into a form that could be anticipated or categorized from the outside.

Bob Dylan understood influence and originality and the relationship between them better than almost anyone alive in 1986. Bob Dylan had spent 24 years thinking carefully and specifically about where music came from and where music was going and what it meant that those two things were always in constant conversation with each other.

Keith Richards was 42 years old in November of 1986. Keith Richards had been playing guitar professionally since 1962. Keith Richards had built a career on a foundation of American blues and rhythm and blues. A foundation that Keith Richards had studied with the systematic devotion of someone who understood that the tradition he was building on was not incidental to the music he was making, but essential to it.

that you could not understand what Keith Richards did without understanding where Keith Richards had come from and what Keith Richards had been listening to since he was a teenager in Dartford with American Import Records and a secondhand guitar and no teacher except the recordings themselves. Keith Richards had never pretended otherwise. Keith Richards had in fact spent considerable energy across his career making the lineage explicit, naming the artists, citing the recordings, insisting on the acknowledgement of influence that the mainstream music

industry had a long history of suppressing or ignoring or crediting to the wrong people. If anything, Keith Richards was more transparent about his sources than most musicians of his generation. Keith Richards had always said openly that the Rolling Stones came directly from the blues, that Muddy Waters and Robert Johnson and the specific tradition of the Mississippi Delta were not background influences, but foundational ones.

The music Keith Richards made was in direct and sustained conversation with that tradition, something Keith Richards considered not a limitation, but a responsibility and a form of respect. The interview had been running for 8 minutes when the host asked Bob Dylan about the current state of rock and roll.

Bob Dylan answered with the density and the indirection that characterized Bob Dylan’s responses to direct questions, turning the question over, approaching it from an unexpected angle, finding his way to what he actually thought through a series of observations that moved like a river rather than a road. Bob Dylan was not a straightforward interview subject.

Bob Dylan had been asked about rock and roll in hundreds of interviews across 24 years and had developed the habit of treating the question as an invitation to think out loud rather than a request for a prepared position. The producer Gerald Sherman said afterward that in the first 8 minutes of the interview, he had been slightly anxious, not because anything was going wrong, but because nothing was going anywhere in particular yet.

The interview had the feeling of two conversations happening simultaneously. Bob Dylan’s internal one and the external one visible to the cameras. And Gerald Sherman was not certain in those first eight minutes that the two conversations would converge into something. Bob Dylan talked about influence. Bob Dylan talked about originality.

Bob Dylan talked about the difference between music that absorbed a tradition and transformed it and music that absorbed a tradition and reproduced it. And then Bob Dylan made his assessment. And then Bob Dylan said with the precision of a man making a musical assessment rather than a personal judgment that the Rolling Stones work, and Bob Dylan was specific, naming Keith Richards as the guitarist whose approach he was discussing was derivative in a way that Bob Dylan found limiting.

Bob Dylan said it without hostility. Bob Dylan said it as a technical observation about the relationship between source material and the work that came from it. Bob Dylan said that Keith Richards played the blues the way the blues had already been played, rather than using the blues as a starting point for something that had not yet been played.

Keith Richards had been listening to this with the specific attention Keith Richards gave to things being said about music by people who knew music. Keith Richards did not interrupt. Keith Richards did not shift in his chair or display any of the visible signals of a person preparing a defensive response. Keith Richards listened to Bob Dylan’s complete observation all the way to its conclusion without interrupting and without displaying any visible signal of preparing a response.

Then Keith Richards said one sentence. The sentence was not a rebuttal. The sentence did not defend Keith Richards music or argue for its originality or challenge Bob Dylan’s characterization of what the blues meant in the context of rock and roll. The sentence was something else entirely, something that required a specific kind of confidence to say.

The confidence of a person who has spent long enough thinking about the same things as the person they are talking to that they can locate the exact point where their thinking diverges and say something useful about that point rather than simply defending their own position. The sentence acknowledged everything Bob Dylan had said, the assessment, the distinction Bob Dylan was drawing, the specific musical concern underlying the observation, and then turned it 90°.

Keith Richards took Bob Dylan’s own framework, the one Bob Dylan had used to analyze Keith Richards relationship to the blues tradition, and applied it back to Bob Dylan’s work with the same precision Bob Dylan had used to apply it to Keith Richards. Spare aimed. The sentence asked Bob Dylan something about Bob Dylan’s own music, about the relationship between Bob Dylan’s sources and Bob Dylan’s output that Bob Dylan had not been asked on television before.

The sentence did not attack. The sentence illuminated. Bob Dylan laughed. The laugh was not the polite laugh of someone responding to a joke. The laugh was the involuntary laugh of someone who has been genuinely surprised. The specific kind of surprise that a person of exceptional intelligence experiences when someone else’s intelligence exceeds their expectations.

Bob Dylan laughed for 4 seconds. Then Bob Dylan stopped laughing. Then Bob Dylan was quiet for 3 seconds in the way that Bob Dylan was quiet when Bob Dylan was thinking rather than performing thought. Then Bob Dylan said, “You’re right.” The producer in the booth, a man named Gerald Sherman, who had been working in television for 14 years, said afterward that in 14 years of live television production, he had never heard Bob Dylan say those two words in a public forum.

Gerald Sherman said he had worked with Bob Dylan on two previous occasions and had observed Bob Dylan in numerous other contexts and that you’re right was not a phrase that Bob Dylan deployed easily or often because Bob Dylan had spent 24 years being right about music in ways that other people eventually caught up with. And the experience of being right ahead of everyone else does not generally produce a man who says you’re right readily when someone else makes a point.

The host of the program, a journalist named Patricia Wells, who had been interviewing musicians for 12 years, said afterward that the 11 seconds between Bob Dylan’s assessment and Bob Dylan saying, “You’re right,” were the most extraordinary 11 seconds of television she had been present for. Patricia Wells said that what she witnessed in those 11 seconds was not a debate or a confrontation or a celebrity exchange of competing opinions.

Patricia Wells said what she witnessed was one musician recognizing another musician as an equal, which was in the specific context of Bob Dylan in 1986, not something that happened in public very often. The interview continued for another 42 minutes after those 11 seconds. The conversation between Bob Dylan and Keith Richards in the remaining 42 minutes was described by everyone who watched it as fundamentally different from the first 8 minutes.

The host, Patricia Wells, who had been conducting music interviews for 12 years and understood the difference between the performance of conversation and actual conversation, said that at approximately the 9-minute mark, something shifted in the studio. That the formal interview, architecture dissolved, and what replaced it was something less structured and more genuine.

Bob Dylan and Keith Richards talked about influence and originality and the blues and what it meant to build on a tradition without being consumed by it. They talked about specific recordings and specific musicians with the specificity of two people who had spent their entire adult lives thinking about these things and rarely found another person who had thought about them with equivalent care.

They talked about where music came from and where music was going and whether those two questions were actually one question or two. Patricia Wells said afterward that she had asked approximately four questions in the remaining 42 minutes because Bob Dylan and Keith Richards did not require questions. They required only a room and a camera and the shared understanding that what they were saying together was worth recording carefully.

She said it was the best interview she had ever conducted and that she had conducted the smallest part of it. After the program, Bob Dylan and Keith Richards were in the corridor outside the studio when the host Patricia Wells passed them. Patricia Wells said she did not stop because she did not want to interrupt.

She observed them for approximately 30 seconds from a distance. She said they were talking with the ease of people who had known each other for years rather than people who had met for the first time 2 hours earlier. She said that something had shifted between them during the broadcast that the broadcast had made permanent rather than temporary.

She continued down the corridor and did not look back. She said in her account of that evening that she had decided in that moment not to interrupt the conversation because some conversations are more valuable than any question a journalist might ask and that the conversation she had observed for 30 seconds in the corridor outside the studio was one of them.

She had been a music journalist for 12 years. She recognized the difference. Bob Dylan and Keith Richards have maintained their friendship across four decades. They have appeared together at various events, most significantly at the concert for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 1995, where people who were present described them as inseparable for most of the evening, occupying the same corner of the backstage area and talking with the concentrated attention of people who only have a limited amount of time together and intend to use it

well. Bob Dylan has spoken about Keith Richards in interviews with the specific thoughtful care that Bob Dylan reserves for musicians whose work Bob Dylan considers genuinely important rather than merely culturally prominent. Keith Richards has spoken about Bob Dylan in similar terms with the specific respect of someone who recognizes in another person a commitment to music that goes deeper than career.

Neither Bob Dylan nor Keith Richards has made a public statement specifically about how the friendship began or about the November 1986 interview. Bob Dylan has not mentioned the 11 seconds. Keith Richards has not mentioned the sentence. The interview exists in the archive. The 11 seconds are there. The laugh is there. The two words are there.

What is also there for anyone who watches the interview from its beginning and pays attention to the shift that happens at the 9-minute mark is the specific moment when two people who thought they were appearing on a television program discovered they were actually talking to each other. What Keith Richards said in that one sentence has never been officially reported.

The people who were in the studio that evening, Gerald Sherman, Patricia Wells, the floor crew, the two camera operators, the makeup artist who was watching from the side of the set, have described the sentence in consistent terms. They have described its effect. They have described Bob Dylan’s laugh and Bob Dylan’s silence and Bob Dylan’s two words.

They have not repeated the sentence itself in the specific understanding that the sentence was said between two musicians on a television program and that its power resided in the specific context of that exchange and would not survive removal from it intact. What can be said is this. Keith Richards said something to Bob Dylan about Bob Dylan’s music that used Bob Dylan’s own observation about Keith Richards as its starting point and arrived somewhere that Bob Dylan had not anticipated.

Keith Richards turned Bob Dylan’s assessment 90° and showed Bob Dylan something about the music they had both spent their lives making that Bob Dylan recognized immediately as true. And Bob Dylan said, “You’re right.” Two words said by Bob Dylan in public on live television in 1986 to Keith Richards in response to a single sentence Keith Richards had said about music.

Two words that Gerald Sherman, who had worked with Bob Dylan on two previous occasions, said he had never heard Bob Dylan say in a public forum. Two words that Patricia Wells, who had been interviewing musicians for 12 years, said were the most significant two words she had heard in those 12 years. Not because of their content, but because of who said them and what it cost to say them and what it meant that Keith Richards had produced them in 11 seconds from a conversation that began with Bob Dylan calling Keith Richards’s music derivative. And Keith Richards and

Bob Dylan have been close friends for nearly 40 years. The sentence did its work in 11 seconds on the evening of November 3rd, 1986. The work has been ongoing ever since. If this story moved you, subscribe and leave a comment below. Have you ever said something to someone that turned a potential disagreement into an unexpected and lasting connection? Tell us about it in the comments below.

Share this with someone who needs to be reminded that the right sentence said at the right moment can completely change the entire direction of a relationship. Ring the notification bell for more untold stories about the extraordinary human beings behind music’s greatest legends.