Grand Theft Auto
by auberus
"The first car I ever stole was a red 1922 Spyker 30/40 C4 Torpedo, and I loved that car with all my heart. When I finally wrecked it, in a lengthy chase that involved three different sheriff's departments, the FBI, a recalcitrant cow, and a big rock, I wanted to cry, but I was busy escaping from the various law enforcement officers who were, in my opinion, all too eager to discuss my latest escapade with me. I stole a horse in the next town I came to, but it wasn't the same."
Cory whoops with joy and presses the accelerator into the floorboards. Behind him, sheriff's deputies from three counties are doing their best to keep up, but the sirens' wail fades to a distant scream as the Spyker car picks up speed. This particular model will out-drive even a Rolls Royce, and the various Bel Airs and Model A's strung out behind Cory haven't got a snowball's chance in hell of catching up, not with him bailing along at forty-five miles an hour. Cory lifts one hand to wave carelessly at his pursuers, then chuckles as he pats the bag of money beside him. Half a million dollars will do a lot of good, with enough left over for some new clothes, and a vacation besides.
Sliding the Spyker around a hairpin turn, he pulls into the straightaway and pushes the speedometer up to fifty. Just before the next turn, he risks a glance over his shoulder, and sees the road clear and empty behind him. Grinning, he steps on the accelerator again, and buries the needle in the dashboard.
That, of course, is the precise moment that the cow chooses to step out into the road.
Cory jerks the wheel reflexively to the left, and sends the Spyker into the sort of skid that he knows instantly that he won't be able to recover from. To his intense fury, the cow stays right where it is. He gets a glimpse of a startled bovine face as the car slides sideways; then the cow steps calmly out of his way. The Spyker goes hurtling through the space the animal has so considerately vacated, and smashes into a two-ton boulder that apparently came out of nowhere.
Cory doesn't actually lose consciousness, but it's a near thing. When his head has stopped ringing and he's blinked some of the blood out of his eyes, he realizes that the rock didn't come out of nowhere. It's a good ten feet away from the side of the road, it was when he hit it, and it's probably been serving the local farmers as a boundary-marker for generations. Now, judging by the ominous hissing coming from the general area of the engine, it will serve as a gravestone for Cory's beloved Spyker.
"Damn it!" Blood and broken glass have ruined the Spyker's once-beautiful interior. Cory pounds his fist into the steering wheel out of sheer frustration, then winces at the slowly-easing pain in his left shoulder. A flash of movement to his right catches his eye, and he looks up into the placidly inquisitive face of the cow, which has wandered over and appears to be eating the top of his seat.
"This is all your fault," he tells it accusingly. "You're lucky I'm a humanitarian."
The cow blinks at him, and utters a plaintive 'moo' in response. The sheer absurdity of it all is enough to make Cory laugh, despite his newly-uncomfortable situation. He's going to have to make a run for it on foot, which is something he dislikes doing on normal occasions, let alone while he's half-healed and covered in blood. Immortality makes his own blood just as hard to explain away as a murder victim's would be, and he doesn't much feel like sticking around to clarify things for the police.
Cory grabs the satchel of money and bails out of the Spyker just as the first police car rounds the bend, siren screaming. He lingers just long enough to give the Spyker a farewell pat on the bumper, then takes off running towards the tree-line.
He doesn't look back, of course. He's already planning to steal another one at the earliest opportunity.
Author's Notes I really have no idea how Cory got his hands on that car. The 1922 Spyker 30/40 C4 Torpedo was a Dutch car, and in addition to being one of the fastest, best, and most beautiful luxury cars of its day, it was also one of the rarest. In 25 years of automobile manufacturing, from 1900 until the company's liquidation in 1926, Spyker produced only about 2,000 vehicles. Today, less than twenty Spyker cars remain. Most are in museums.
Written for the hlflashfic livejournal community. The prompt was 'first'. As always, feedback is love.