biguglymandoll (biguglymandoll) wrote,

The Giving Car

Originally published at Big Ugly Man Doll. You can comment here or there.

I want to go to the park, said the Boy.
Tell your Dad, and I’ll bet he’ll drive you to the park, said the Car.
And the Boy told his Dad, who loaded him into the Car with a nice picnic lunch, and drove them to the park.

And time went by.

I need some money, said the Boy.
Get a job, said the Car.  You can drive me to your job and back, if your Dad says it’s OK.
And it was OK with Dad, and the Boy starting driving the Car to work and back, and pretty soon the Boy was driving his Car to work and back, and the Boy had a Car.

And time went by quickly. 

I need to get laid, said the Boy.
Put one of those new carburetors in me, so I go vroomvroom really low and growly-like.  Chicks totally dig that.
Yeah? asked the Boy.
Oh yeah, said the Car.  And clean out the backseat.

And the Boy spent some of his money on a new vroomvroom carburetor, and cleaned the Car inside and out, and bought some of those fuzzy dice for good luck.  And he met a terrific redhead who liked cars that went vroomvroom really low and growly-like, and wasn’t afraid to show it.

And time went by.  Nine months’ time, to be exact.

I need a family car, said the Boy.
No problem, said the Car.  Put some after-market safety straps in the back and load me with carseats.
I suppose I should clean the backseat again, said the Boy.
Dude, what’s the point? said the Car.
Yeah, sighed the Boy.

And time went by.  And young and stupid people did young and stupid things.

I need a car that can outrun a police car, said the Boy.
What on earth for? asked the Car.
Because he’s gaining on us, said the Boy.
The things I do, sighed the Car, shifting into overdrive.

And time went by, and the Boy woke up one morning and realized that he wasn’t getting any younger, so he joined a gym and met a much younger women and bought a mid-life Chrysler and left the Car with his first wife.

I need a minivan, said the redhead.
Sorry, said the Car.
Not your fault.

But no one wanted to buy an elderly Car with after-market straps and a goofy carburetor, so she eventually put it on blocks, drained the fluids, and threw a tarp over it.

And time went by.  And it was dark in there.

And the Boy came to his senses about 2 years later.  And the redhead made him sleep in the garage for the first month, so he spent some time putting the tires back on, topping off the fluids, and getting the stains out of the backseat.

I really made a mess of things, didn’t I? asked the Boy.
In pretty much all cases, yes, said the Car.
Oh, who asked you anyway, said the Boy.

Hey baby, said the Boy.
Don’t you hey baby me, said the redhead.
I fixed up the old car, said the Boy.
Hmmph, sniffed the redhead.  But she was touched just the same, and let him sleep in the house.  On the sofa.

And time went by.  A lot of it.

I have to go to a funeral, said the Boy.
It’s raining, said the Car.  Better check my brakes, and it would be nice if you waxed me shiny and tuned up my carburetor, so I can go vroomvroom all low and growly for her one last time.
And the Boy did those things.

I want to go to the park, said the Boy.
Tell your son, and I’ll bet he’ll drive you to the park, said the Car.
And the Boy told his son (who had kept the old Car in good condition since it looked like it would be worth a bundle one of these days, and besides his wife and the kids loved it), and his son loaded the old man into the Car with a nice picnic lunch, and drove them to the park.

Tags: books, children, fatherhood, stories
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