In response to Roger Schipp with A Writer’s Community picture prompt above for Flash Fiction For The Purposeful Practitioner:
On the bottom again, thank goodness. There’s at least seven old junkards on top of me. I can see myself in the reflection of their broken windows. I can’t believe that’s me.
I was a car salesman’s dream. When I arrived to the showroom from Michigan, I was handled with kid-gloves, literally. Anyone who touched me or worked on me had to wear special gloves so my new paint, Aqua 100, wouldn’t get smudged. scratched or damaged.
A young man sauntered into the showroom during one of the hottest days that summer. He looked at me and we fell in love immediately. He was glorious. He didn’t haggle, hesitate or argue. He asked the salesman how much I cost, pulled out his wallet and paid full price for me on the spot.
We drove all the way to the shore with my windows down and my new age A.R.C. Stereo Tape Deck blaring at the top of my volume knob. He sang along with every song, even the oldies. To say I was in automobile heaven couldn’t describe the wonderful times we had.
That man and I stayed together even after his hair turned all white and he couldn’t sing anymore. My paint had faded to near white too, but he still looked at me with love in his eyes.
Sometimes he’d sit in the drivers seat and pretend we were on the road again, even though neither of us ran at all anymore. Then he was gone and a big yellow truck came and pulled me away. All of my once lovely chrome was yanked away from my body and parts of my motor disemboweled, before I was put on a rickety old flatbed and brought here.
It’s almost my time beneath the crusher. But look, it’s the man and does he ever look dapper and he’s swinging my keys just like the first day he purchased me. I hope we get to put the windows down again.