Hi, my name is Samantha Witwicky. Let me tell you about myself, I have long brown hair and green eyes. I am the daughter of Ron and Judy Witwicky. I go to high school like every other teenager in the United States. I'm not the most popular kid around. Anyways; On with the story!

My story starts with a deal that I made with my dad, Ron. Our deal was that if I got all A's on my report card, and had each teacher sign off on it as proof, then I would be able get a car. My own freaking CAR! But, only if I put $2,000 towards it. So here I am, in present day running out of school towards my dad's car waving the sheet, which by the way; all of my teachers signed, proving that I got all A's, around like a lunatic.

"Dad, dad, dad, dad, I did it, I got all A's and all of my teachers signed off on it." I panted, out of breath. I practically jumped into the car, still waving the paper around this time in his face.

"Wait, wait, wait! I can't see! Can you stay still for one second." He said laughing. I managed to calm down enough to hand my dad the paper for him to examine. Does he think I forged it or something?

"There's an A- on here" Dad said doubtedly.

"Yea, but an A- is still an A though!" I said hurriedly, not wanting to have done all of that for nothing, and losing my hopes and dreams of having a car.

"I guess…." He said hesitantly. Wow, that worked?

"So… we're good?" I asked hopefully.

"We're good." He sighed.

"YES! YES! YES! I'M GETTING A CAR! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I practically screamed out the window at this point. The people in the car next to us were looking at me like I was crazy but hey, even good thing have consequences. Oh well.

Pretty soon, we were pulling into the parking lot of a…. PORSCHE DEALERSHIP!

"Dad you've got to be kidding me-" I was practically in heaven from my happiness level right now.

"-Yeah, I am. You're not getting a Porsche" He said laughing. Happiness gone right... now

"You think that's funny?" I said, pouting.

"Yes, I think it's funny. You really thought I would get you a Porsche for your first car?" He managed to say in between laughs.

"I don't want to talk to you for the rest of this car ride." I said, leaning back and folding my arms.

"Oh, come on. I was just a joke" Dad said, looking over at me.

"Well, it wasn't funny. Like, at all."

I ignored dad as he drove down the street to some old rundown place called 'Bobby Bolivia's Car Dealership.' This is more like my dad.

I hesitantly got out of the car and walked over to one of the cars for sale. As I inspected it, the car's bumper fell off.

"Here? No, no, no, what is this?" I exclaimed.

"It's a car lot. What else does it look like?" Dad asked me.

"You said... You said you would buy me half a car, not half a piece of crap, Dad"

"When I was your age, I'd have been happy with four wheels and an engine" Dad said, walking up the lot towards the yellow building in the center of the lot.

"Okay, let me explain something to you. Okay? You ever see 40-Year-Old Virgin?" I asked, walking up to a banged up car.

"Yeah"

"Okay, that's what this is" I said pointed to said banged up car. "And this is 50-year-old virgin" I pointed to the car that I accidentally broke.

"Okay" Dad said.

"Do you really want me to live that life?" I asked.

"No sacrifice, no victory" Dad said cheerfully causing me to roll my eyes.

"Yeah, no victory. You know, I got it. The old Witwicky motto, Dad" I said.

"Exactly" He said as we walked up to the salesman who was waiting for us.

"Hello there. My name is Bobby Bolivia, like the country, except without the runs. How can I help you?" He said smiling widely.

I was getting a bit creeped out by him, because creepily, he didn't blink. AT. ALL.

"Well, my daughter here, is looking to buy her first car" Dad said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"You came to see me?" Bobby asked, like he couldn't believe it. I know dude, neither can I.

"We had to" I managed to say miserably.

"That practically makes us family. Uncle Bobby B, baby. Uncle Bobby B" Nope, I was never ever going to call him that.

"Samantha" We shook hands.

"Let me talk to you Sam!-" I didn't say you could call me that dude. Oh wait he's still talking. "-Your first enchilada of freedom awaits underneath one of those hoods. Let me tell you something. A driver don't pick the car. The car will pick the driver. It's a mystical bond between man and machine. Son, I'm a lot of things, but a liar's not one of them" He then put his arms around my shoulders steering me deeper into the car lot. I am getting seriously creeped out right now.

"Especially not in front of my mammy. That's my mammy" He said pointing to an elderly woman who was sitting in a lawn chair with some other people.

"Hey, Mammy!" He called.

In retaliation, she stuck her middle finger up at him. "Don't be like that. If I had a rock, I'd bust your head open, bitch" He turned back to me and my dad. "I tell you, man, she deaf, you know?" He walked over to one of the cars and patted it lovingly.

"Well, over here, every piece of car a man might want or need" He said as I noticed a Camaro a couple cars away. I don't know what it was but, something made me want to go over to it and buy it immediately. So, I followed my gut and walked towards it, drowning out Bobby's rant about his cars and enchiladas of freedom."

When I reached the car, my dad had finally noticed that I wasn't around them anymore, but was instead peering through the window at the interior of the Camaro.

"This isn't half bad, it's got racing striped" I said, opening the door and climbing into the drivers seat.

"Yeah. It got racing..." Bobby trailed off. "Yeah, what's this? What the heck is this? I don't know nothing about this car. Manny!" He shouted, looking back at the building.

"What?" A man shouted back from across the lot.

"What is this? This car! Check it out!" I wiped the steering wheel free of dust. I noticed that in the center of the wheel, there was a strange robotic face. Maybe the previous owner had it engraved into the car? I thought as I swiped my thumb across the face.

"Feels good" I muttered smiling. I turned my head and looked in front to see a bumblebee hanging off the rearview mirror.

"How much for it?" Dad asked.

"Well, considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle, with the slick wheels and the custom paint job..."

"Yeah, but the paint's faded" I said.

"Yeah, but it's custom" He said back.

"It's custom faded?" I asked bewildered.

"Well, this is your first car. I wouldn't expect you to understand. Five grand" Bobby declared, and I frowned. Noooooo, I really want this car.

"Nope. Sorry, but I'm not paying over four." Dad said, Bobby stuck his head near my window and tried to undo the door.

"Kid, come on, get out. Get out the car" He said, trying a little harder to undo the door.

"No, no, no. You said cars pick their drivers" I said, looking longingly around in the car.

"Well, sometimes they pick a driver with a cheap-ass father. Out the car" He said as I tried to open the door but it wouldn't budge.

"Now, this one here for four Gs is a beaut" Bobby said, as I struggled with the door.

"There's a Fiesta with racing stripes over there" Dad said, trying to console me.

"No, I don't want a Fiesta with racing stripes" I whined still really wanting the Camaro.

"This is a classic engine right here" Bobby patted another nearby car "I sold a car the other day..."

I finally got my door open and the minute I closed it, the passenger side door flung open.

"Oops" I muttered, as they both looked at me. "Sorry, the door was stuck... I couldn't-" I was interrupted.

"No, no, no. No worries" Bobby said, as I backed away from the Camaro.

"You all right?" Dad asked, concerned.

"I'll get a sledgehammer and knock this right out. Hey, hey, Manny! Get your clown cousin and get some hammers and come bang this stuff out, baby!" He got himself out of the other car and walked over to another. "That one's my favourite, drove all the way from Alabammy"

Something then happened to the Camero's radio; I high pitched sound came from it's speakers causing all of the other car's windows to break apart. Glass flew everywhere, so, to prevent being hurt, I flung myself to the ground and curled into a ball. I felt shards of glass land in my hair. That's going to be a lot of fun to get out.

When I got back up, Bobby's mouth was hanging open as he looked at what his car lot had become. I bit my lip looking around at all the damage caused by the Camaro.

"$4,000" Bobby said, his voice sounding slightly higher than before.

As I looked around me at all of the cars, and their broken windows I couldn't help but think: What did I just get myself into?