350 words
bSecond First Meeting/b
by Allie
Starsky drove to the first of the Academy's classes, enjoying the powerful, rumbling purr of his car's big engine.
On the side of the road, sat a broken-down car. It was broken down in both senses of the word. Ancient, with non-descript beige paint, rusty fenders—looking like it belonged in a junkyard. And its hood was open, pouring smoke.
A tall blond man stood in front, waving the smoke away, looking as mad as you can get. Starsky recognized him. He pulled over grinning, and hopped out. What a way to start at the Academy. Starsky bounded over to join the stranded man. "Hey, Hutchinson. Remember me? What happened, huh?"
The blond man turned a confused frown on him. "What's— Have we met?"
"Sure. Doncha remember? Hey, what happened to your car?" Starsky gestured to it, trying not to grin.
"Oh—just—uh—overheated. And—I think I need a new part," mumbled the blond.
"I think ya need a new cah."
Hutchinson turned a frown on him. "Are you sure we've met before?"
"Yes," said Starsky. He grinned. "And now it's my turn to give you a lift."
"A—a lift? I gave you a lift?" Hutchinson's brow furrowed.
"You could put it that way. C'mon—you don't want to be late on your first day at the Academy."
"The Academy! How did you know…?"
"Cuz you told me last time we met. Don't worry, it's no trouble givin' you a lift. I'm goin' there, too."
Hutchinson blinked, looking confused. "You say we've met, and I'm sure I should recognize you. What's your name?"
"Starsky."
"Starsky—oh! The sprained ankle."
Starsky nodded, grinning. "You always remember people by their ankles, buddy?"
Hutchinson laughed. "No, it's just—I didn't see you for very long. I'm usually good at face."
Starsky raised a skeptical eyebrow. "If you say so. Hey—get in my cah, okay? If you keep waiting, we'll both be late for our first day."
"Oh—sure. Sorry." Hutchinson locked up his car. (Starsky wondered what the point was.) Then Hutchinson hopped in Starsky's car, and the two drove off together.