Writing Prompt: The car was his pride and joy.

Welcome one and all to Thursday. This week seems to have just flown by. At least for me. Every time I turn around time seems to have evaporated on me. I think it is because my to do lists are getting longer while the hours in the day remain static. Even so it is time to give fifteen minutes over to the writing prompt. Ready? Then let the timer begin.

Okay now I want to know what he has to plan his way out of. Sigh. I suppose I’ll have to write the story to find out. I hope you enjoy it and I’ll see you back here later today for my weekly thoughts on writing.

Thursday, November 19th: The car was his pride and joy.

The care was his pride and joy. He saved for years to buy it.  Mowing lawns and running errands for elderly neighbors on his bike.  He strapped a picnic basket to the back with bungee cords so that he could carry groceries for those who didn’t want to go to the store for a few things and afternoons often found him delivering the few things people forgot at the store or ran out of unexpectedly when they started to think about dinner prep.

He knew that many of the other guys in the neighborhood laughed at him, but he paid them no attention.  They were only spectators to his world after all.  After junior high he left them all behind as he was accepted into an accelerated college prep program instead of going to the nearest high school.  It meant that he got up at least an hour earlier to catch the bus and was generally out of the neighborhood before they even woke up. He only saw them when he passed them buy. 

The wind carried their words to his ears, but it blew them right past again as his legs pumped like pistons over the hills that turned his neighborhood picturesque and made his grocery visits an endurance event. 

Every penny he could scrape together went into the bank account.  He was started on it early as his parents wanted him to learn to manage money at an early age.  While they watched his ingoing and outgoing funds, like birthday and holiday money from grandparents when he was younger, by the time he entered junior high, they stopped paying attention, confident he could managed things on his own without their monthly finance meetings.  He was certain they still thought he spent his money on candy and comics.

All through the summers he sweated with the lawn mower and the grocery and other errands were year round.  And into the account it went.  When he started, he wasn’t entirely certain if the money would go to the car or college.  Full ride scholarships took care of university.  Then not having a car was both limiting and oddly freeing.  He regretted it when he wanted to go somewhere, but then there were friends with cars and he was able to chip in for gas.  Most things he could walk to.  It was freeing because it insured that as his university was eight hours away, he couldn’t just come home whenever the mood struck him.  Trips home had to be planned. 

While his choice to go to university was accepted, the family still had the tendency to try and draw him back into their world.  He saw each of his brothers try for what they wanted, only to be pulled into the orbit of familial obligation.  Out of the direct line of sight, with no easy method to bring him home in a moment’s notice gave him the freedom to remain on his own.  It was only when he graduated and accepted a job on the other side of the country that he purchased his first car. Seeing it, reminded him daily of those sweaty hours, the taunts for his basket laden bicycle and the value of planning. The year after he purchased the car, his ability to plan and wait for years for the plan to come to fruition became the only thing that saved him.

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