Flash Story Collection - 2. An Old Car Remembers
The old car had no idea how it happened, but due to some miracle, he could think. No, unfortunately, he wasn’t one of those Transformer cars who could turn into walking, jumping, punching, kicking and weapon-bearing robots. It would be totally cool if he was, but he wasn’t. Not that having thoughts was something to roar engines about! I’m a car for grease’s sake; we are made to be driven, not to think. Although as far as he could tell, thinking was the only thing new about him. Oh wait, he had a fresh coat of silver paint on too.
Thinking hard, Lance recalled that his first thought came to him as soon as the bristles of a moist brush made contact against his metal exterior. Did that mean the paint was magical? The old car pondered for minutes, but he gave up after a while. Honestly, does it really matter?
Lance was the name the old car’s driver, Bryan, gave him. The memory of Bryan brought a stab of pain from inside Lance’s hood. Memory! How could he have memories when he had thoughts only recently? Surprisingly, he did have memories and lots of them. Most were of his driver, the strongest being that of Bryan making himself comfortable on the driver’s seat for the first time, passing his hand against the plastic surface of the dashboard before starting the engine.
Bryan treated him good; he took Lance on road trips, brought him on his dates and made him the wedding car when the big day came. As far as Lance was concerned, life was good. But that was before the fateful night he stalled in the middle of the road. Bryan’s efforts were for nothing, all that his engine did was spit and sputter. An hour later, he was being dragged by a tractor.
Lance had no idea exactly how long, but he knew he hadn’t been separated like this from Bryan before. His driver’s absence made him... sad. Pain? Sadness? Confusion? Fear? Where did all these emotions come from? The feelings weren’t really foreign, he experienced a semblance of such emotions before. But his newfound consciousness probably allowed him to put a name to what he felt. Right now, he felt abandoned.
A middle-aged guy climbed inside the old car and Lance knew something was wrong. This wasn’t his driver, he could tell by the difference in the way his steering wheel was gripped; Bryan held him with a certain gentleness. Where is my driver? This is the first time someone else is driving me. Did... did Bryan sell me to a new owner? If so, that means this guy is my new driver...
Lost in his thoughts, the old car didn’t realize the middle-aged guy slip out of the driver’s seat, replaced by a guy with deep green eyes, short brown hair and a kind smile on his lips. Lance became conscious of the difference only when a familiar touch caressed his dashboard. Bryan sat in his usual place inside while he held the hand of his partner in the passenger seat, the guy from whom the old car got his name.
“I’ve missed you buddy. Let’s go home.” Hearing his driver say those words, Lance the car felt as happy as could be.
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