Christine and her dad had been driving down the interstate for at least five hours. The heat wasn't too unbearable as she had thought it was going to be. Her dad and his new wife were in the Volvo in front of them; Christine following behind in her black 1967 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme. It had cost her two years' worth of paychecks, and that was without spending money on anything else, but she had never wanted anything more than she had wanted that car. They'd been staying in hotels every night making their way from The Mountains in North Carolina to California. What should have been a four to five day trip had taken them a week and a half thanks to Ashley. Backpackers around the world would be laughing at us if we told them our story she thought rolling her eyes. Thank goodness they were right on the outskirts of California now. There was only about a two hour drive left. I had put up an argument every single night that we had to pull over and get a hotel room because 'She didn't want to sleep in the car'. She is such a prissy ass wasting at least a hundred dollars a night just because she can. Of course it isn't her money she's wasting it's my dad's. That bimbo hasn't worked a day in her life. Which is ridiculous because who mooches off of people and still has dignity? Although dad has always tried to pay for everything, I've had a job since I turned twelve. Six years of busting my ass because being independent is something I thrive on. Grandpa taught me that… Oh Grandpa. With his calloused hands, the way he always smelled of motor oil, tobacco, and hay. They way he would wrap you in a big bear hug and you felt safe. Working on grandpa's farm and in the shop with him had seemed like second nature to me. It was devastating when the cancer took him six months ago. The smoking had done so much damage that the Chemo hadn't helped a bit. It had only made him sick. Grandpa had been there my whole life. I'd lived with him up until then. Dad had been down in Miami with the bimbo trying to 'live the life'. Although living on the farm and working in the shop is my version of the life; to each his own I reckon. Trying to drown out her own thoughts she turned up the radio in the car. The tune in the style of Johnny Cash couldn't drown out her haunting thoughts. The lyrics of Hurt ringing throughout the car only made it worse. "I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel. I focus on the pain, the only thing that's real. The needle tears a hole, the old familiar sting. Try to kill it all away, but I remember everything. What have I become?, my sweetest friend. Everyone I know, goes away in the end". She furiously tried to wipe away the traitor tears that were rolling down her cheeks. She couldn't stop the horrible memories. Grief that turned her into a mess, then turning to drugs and alcohol to mask the grief, and then there was the 'incident'. She was sad to leave the home she had known her whole life But it could be a new start she thought smiling at the hopeful thought Nobody in this town knows about my past. I could just start over and avoid the looks and the whispers that followed me everywhere there. A bigger smile crossed her lips as she pulled on her mirrored aviators, turned to the next song Led Zeppelin's Black Dog, and day dreamed about what was to come.