Flashbacks, Part 1

Childhood

A lot of people have been talking about whether cars are born or bred, and what exactly are the social implications of being a certain model? For example, are semis lower class vehicles because they're large and "built" to haul heavy loads? The movie seems to suggest it subtly, whether intentionally or unintentionally. It made me wonder exactly what life would have been like for the first Jeeps if they reproduced biologically, since they existed solely for warfare. This part contains child abuse, in case that particular subject squicks anyone, though it's not drawn out or particularly graphic.

The little room was sparse and dull. The walls had at one point been painted white, but were now faded and chipped, in some places so much so that the bare concrete beneath was visible. The floor was carpeted, but it had been worn to almost nothing by many treads. Against the east wall was a dresser, against the north wall a bed. The bed was designed for a child, the only kind of bed that was suspended above the floor slightly; no more than four feet by two feet in size. Faint moonlight shone through the single grimy window.

A small Willys Jeep stood next to the bed, his antenna trained for noises outside the door. The little boy seemed satisfied that he didn't have an eavesdropper, and lowered himself to his belly before crawling beneath the bed. There he found a tattered cardboard box, and pulled it close to himself, carefully pulling back the flaps that concealed its contents.

Though the objects inside might seem uninteresting to the average child, William treated them like treasures. He cautiously removed them from the box, turning each thing over in his tires before setting it on the floor. First, a metal spinning top that had grown rusty. Second, four crayons, all of which were nearly half used up, the paper carefully torn back from the blunt ends. Upon closer inspection of the box, one would see that the inside had been coloured. The third and final object looked much newer than the others; a wooden yo-yo painted red and blue.

William was most interested in playing with the yo-yo, and he carefully put the crayons and spinning top back into the box before switching to reverse and pulling himself from under the bed, the newest toy in his teeth. Once he was standing, he reached down with his antenna and poked the end between the loop in the string. He was no longer listening for any noises outside the door, completely absorbed in his play as he sat back and tried to figure out how to use the yo-yo. He flicked his antenna, but it must not have been done correctly, as the string unwound and stayed unwound.

William's eyes narrowed and his bottom bumper jutted out in concentration. He wound the yo-yo back up and tried again. This time, it recoiled slightly, but when it had come half way back to his waiting grip it uncoiled again and hung limp.

The little Jeep was so absorbed in this new challenge that he didn't notice the door opening behind him. His father entered and frowned silently down at him. William let out a cry of fear as the world was turned upside down, and his yo-yo fell from his grasp to the carpet. He was suspended momentarily by the Ford's tire, then set back down in a standing position, now facing him.

"What have I told you about this?" his father said in a stern voice, and although it was level, the little boy trembled with fear. "I don't put a roof over your head and feed you and train you so you can play with toys in your spare time."

"I'm sorry, sir," the little boy said in a hushed whisper. He willed his eyes to stare straight ahead, not wanting to draw attention to the bed and what was hidden beneath. His father picked up the yo-yo with a scowl.

"Where did you get this?"

"I found it, sir." Which was true. During training, he had noticed the toy sticking from the mud and had hidden it in one of his wheel wells. It had surely belonged to one of the other boys, but William didn't dare reveal what he had found for fear that it would be taken away from him.

"Then you should have given it to me, or the nurse." The little boy's eyes flickered back to the bed. It had been the nurse who had given him the crayons after he had been injured one day. Bernard immediately groped beneath the bed and pulled out the box, which crumpled beneath his tire, rousing a cry of protest from his son.

William regretted the noise as soon as it had left him, but he didn't have time to apologize as the Ford's heavy tire struck him across the hood, sending him skidding across the carpet on his side. The Jeep's tires flailed in the air momentarily, but within seconds he pulled himself upright and stood at attention, antenna saluting. He prayed that his respectful position would save him from another blow, and he bit down hard on his bottom bumper to stop the tears that were welling in his eyes.

"You're the first of your kind, boy," his father said, repeating the lecture William and all the other boys here had heard 100 times over. "You're going to be a soldier one day. It's what you exist for. You and the rest of the Jeeps are going to have to be real men." He grabbed William's tire and wrenched him close, and his son was unable to stop the sob of fear that escaped him and the stray tears that slipped to his hood. His father stared down at him, still with his deep frown.

He worried that William was slipping. He was the smallest of the Jeeps here, as well as the most withdrawn. No son of his was going to turn out to be anything less than the perfect soldier, and he would go to great lengths to make sure that happened. He squeezed William's tire tightly.

"I don't want to see any more toys. Do something more productive with your free time."

"Yes, sir!"

The Ford let the little Jeep go, and William stood at attention and made no protest as his toys were gathered up and taken away.