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A Short Story: Car Searching

He wallows scrounging up what is left of his confidence exiting his beaten down and broken 2007 Nissan Altima. Locks the door and turns to stare at a new beginning. He does not look back as he walks away entering the junkyard. He has been put down what seems to be his entire dreary depressing college life. His grimy dorm room followed by his rust bucket vehicle. He is not one to sweat the small things, he has been living like this his whole life. He was majoring in mechanical engineering, studying for a better future, or whatever that meant to him. But rather he sought a different kind of better. A better where he was confident and content with his accomplishments. He needed something to invest his pride and soul into. He pays a small fee and in time at all, he was scanning his surroundings looking for the next step in his life.

Further, he marched down the isles witnessing wrecks and beaten buggies. He smiles as he notices a ruined late 40s Mercury wagon. To no surprise, he turns away and eyeballs a demolished hearse. He could only make out the iconic rear fender as the entire front axle had been sliced off. A stack of Prius’ had been at the forefront of attention for what seemed like 10 minutes as he wondered who cared enough to even dump a Prius. He scoffed and journeyed further finding the BMW section. Soccer mom vans and broken bimmer coupes ranged for a few miles. He laughed at the possibility of owning a bimmer even if it were in mint condition. He arrived at the neverending lane of rusted pickups and forgotten hatchbacks. He thought of the red 93’ Nissan pickup his father owned. The many trips around town he had taken riding in the back. He wanted to make memories like those. So he moved forward. As he continued he began thinking of what he actually wanted and was looking for. Ultimately he wanted something iconic to him, something he can make his own, no matter how much work it took. The farther he wandered from the start the older the cars seemed to get. He was walking through decades and years of vehicles. He noticed he was entering an 80s era automobiles. There were a wheel-less challenger and a Porsche 911 that was scrunched and sandwiched by 3 undiscernible cars. A small Toyota MR2 was tempting but he knew that it was not his calling. Though it was not an FD the RX-7 presented itself rivetingly polished, missing a few fenders and innards but never the less was fresh. He knew this couldn’t be it, he moved forward contemplating if he would ever find his soulmate automobile. Was he too picky? Was anything going to satisfy? No. He wanted to concern himself with just trusting his gut. Sparks. He approached the peeling yellow-painted iron monster. Luscious curves and hardened corners. A beautiful ducktail spoiler and a red phoenix painted on the nose. Up and down endlessly he examined the vehicle, praising every centimeter of craftsmanship. Quality. Condition. The 71’ Pontiac Firebird had shown itself in full glory bustling in potential and spirit. At this moment he knew where we needed to be, in the driver’s seat. He called an attendant, his heart beating and hands sweating. The breaking point. The price. Doubt and anxiety filled him as he reached for his wallet. He and the attendant haggled and he put aside his fear. By the end of that special day, he owned his project. It was his, something he could call his own. He wanted nothing but to begin his next journey in fixing, tuning, and upgrading it.


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