Chapter 2: The Car Expert
"Did you two really think I'd get you a Porsche? For your first car?" Dad said sardonically.
Well, that was the dream.
"I'm not gonna talk to you until the end of this day." My brother replied as we passed a person that was dressed like a clown, holding a sign that pointed towards Bobby Bolivia's, and it was way beyond hot outside today. The make-up on it was melting. That must have been painful for him.
Sam and I were about to throw a fit, but both of us simply crossed our arms as dad drove into Bobby Bolivia's lot. The worn off yellow paint of the sign was burning to the eyes. "Come on, it was just a practical joke!"
"It's not a funny joke, dad!" I said from the backseat. This time, dad was through with replying to our complaints and just resolved to parking his rare Austin in front of Bolivia's.
Sam opened the door and his face blanched. Mine too. "Here?" I looked around, horrified. "No, dad!"
"W-What is this?" Sam stammered. "No! You said half a car, not half a piece of crap, dad!" Sam turned to dad to give him a hard glare. I looked around the lot, only to find rusty Fords, Chryslers and common American cars that were downright horrible.
But dad waved the both of us off easily. "Hey, when I was your age, I had been happy with four wheels and an engine."
"But these aren't the medieval times, dad!" I exclaimed. "We don't want to buy these old cars!"
"Watch it, young lady." Dad pointed a finger at me. He was as sensitive as mom about the age thing.
"All I'm saying is that old cars aren't safe cars. Except for Volvos. But that's another story." I crossed my arms and looked to the side. I wonder if the stickers on the windshield cost more than the cars themselves. Words like 'Hot Buy' and 'Gas Saver' were on almost all of the crap cars, and I had a feeling they weren't really what they were labeled to be.
"Look, let me explain something to you." Sam took over the show, seeing that dad wasn't buying anything what I was offering. "Have you ever seen a 40 year old virgin?"
"Yeah." Dad nodded and Sam and I immediately realized her took the question literally.
"He didn't mean it literally." I said lowly to my father.
"Oh." Dad said.
"That's what this is." Sam, nonetheless, pointed to an old Ford. "And this is a 50 year old virgin." He then pointed to a white Lincoln. "You want us to live that life, huh?"
"'Cause we certainly don't." I shook my head, backing up my brother in one of those rare brother-sister moments.
Dad just sighed and waved his hand for us to cut it out. "No sacrifice, no victory."
"Yeah, we got it, the old Witwicky motto, dad." Sam rolled his eyes skyward.
"And what is there to win?" I gave him a look.
Dad was about to answer me, but he spotted someone behind me. I could hear the footsteps, so I turned around.
"Gentlemen," I heard an African-American man say. "and lady." He gave me a look and after shaking his hands in greeting with dad and Sam, he grabbed my hand and shook it, too. "Bobby Bolivia, like the country, except without the runs." What does that even mean? "How can I help you?" He grinned mirthfully.
"My kids here are looking to buy their first car." Dad said and I could see that he was less than willing to give his money for us to have something.
"You come to see me?" Wrong tense of the verb, Bobby. He dramatically put a hand to his heart.
"We had to." I muttered.
"That practically makes us family." Please no. "Uncle Bobby B, baby. Uncle Bobby B." He grinned and shook hands more amiably with both of us.
"Sam."
"Nicole." We finished with the introductions.
"Kids, let me talk to you." Bobby placed his warm hands on the backs of our necks, securing his grip before slowly starting to steer us into the parking lot, where the rest of the old crap cars were parked. "Kids, your first enchilada of freedom awaits underneath one of those hoods." He said as he took off the hand on my neck and motioned towards the 'hoods'. All I saw were pathetic excuses for cars around us.
Just as we were continuing through the parking lot, I spotted an ostrich caged in on the side of the parking.
Isn't that illegal?
"Let me tell you something, kids. The driver don't pick the car." There was a sudden rev of an engine. It sounded good, but Bobby was looking at me so intently I couldn't look away. "The car will pick the driver. It's a mystical bond between man and machine." Sam and I glanced at each other. We were both freaked out. Bond between man and machine? Yeah right. "Kids, I'm a lot of things, but a liar's not one of 'em. Especially not in front of my mammy. That's my mammy right there." He pointed with his hand where two negro women were drinking coffee and talking. "HEY MAMMY!" He suddenly yelled out, making me and Sam cringe and step slightly away from the man. His mother easily gave him the middle finger.
Such a loving mother.
"Oh, don't be like that. If I had a rock, I'd bust your head bitch." He swore as he looked at us with a shit-eating white grin. "But she can't hear me, she's deaf." He laughed out loud in a very obnoxious kind of laugh. "But over here," He motioned towards the parking lot again and this time, I spotted a new car sitting on the lot. It wasn't there before. "every piece of car a man might want or need." He said as we walked over to said car.
It wasn't an uncommon car. Conversely, it was common on the roads, but not in this version. In front of Sam, me, my dad and Bolivia, was an old Camaro. Probably the car I heard revving a few short moments ago. "Nic, you know anything about this car?" Sam asked me. We both knew who was the expert on cars in the family, and it wasn't him or my parents.
"This is a second generation Camaro. Looks to be a Z/28 that's missing its tags." I said as Bolivia put his hands on the trunk of the coupe, presenting us the car. "Doesn't look to be in mint condition." I frowned at the rust I found on the pillars of the car. Sam and I rounded the car, him on the driver's side of it whereas I was on the passenger side. He even ran his hand over the hood, but frowned at the dust on his fingers. Dad just stood on the side, monitoring everything, but not looking too pleased with the choice. Well dad, that's what you get when your kids ride in a rare Austin and now have to buy a rusted Camaro.
"Paint looks faded." Sam told me. "It ain't bad, but at least it's got racing stripes." He smiled hopefully.
"Yeah." Bobby B cut in as well. "It's got racin-Wait. What the heck is this?" He threw his hands off the trunk as Sam and I sat inside the Camaro.
"It's a car, but who knows?" I grinned along with Sam as he sat in the driver's seat and I sat in the passengers.
"I don't know nothing about this car. HEY MANNY!" Bobby B suddenly yelled out, causing me to flinch. Jesus, what is with him and sudden outbursts?
"Interior's not too shabby." I noted, trying my best to ignore Bobby for all he was worth, looking over the black and yellow interior that honored the exterior color. "It's an automatic." Sam put his hands on the steering wheel as my attention caught the air freshener.
"What?" 'Manny', a car mechanic, came out of its shed dressed in a blue uniform with a dirty cloth in his hand.
"This car, check it out!" I took the cartoony bee shaped air freshener and twirled it around, noticing how it had 'Bee-otch' written on it. If we ever brought this 'Maro home, it would definitely be our bee-otch. Well, mine definitely, I wouldn't know for Sam. Sam wasn't as much of a car enthusiast as I was.
"This is cute." I said as I left the air freshener be.
"I don't know, boss, I never seen that! That's loco!" Manny yelled out over the large distance between the two associates.
"Don't go Ricky Ricardo on me, Manny find out!" Bobby berated.
Manny resolved to using Spanish words I couldn't possibly understand. I got the feeling Bobby B didn't understand Spanish either.
Sam gripped the steering wheel tighter and I grabbled all over the used dashboard with my hands, feeling the car. The car suddenly shuddered, slightly, but noticeably. "Are you doing this?" Sam looked at me and gave me a warning look.
"Wasn't me, I promise." I raised my hands up in defense.
"Well, the grip feels good." Sam said, looking out the windshield. "Hood's pretty long, but I think we can get used to that." He reported in. "I just hope the car doesn't shake on a normal occasion."
"Yeah, me too." I looked over the interior once more. "Car should be cleaned properly, though. Look at that dust on the steering wheel." I pointed with my finger towards the symbol on the center of the steering wheel.
Swiping with his thumb, my fraternal twin revealed the strange symbol on the steering wheel. "What is this?" His face scrunched up in confusion. "Some kind of Camaro symbol?"
"Not a production symbol, that's for sure." I hummed as I stared at the square robotic face on it. "No tuner house has this either. Never seen it before in my life."
"How much?" Dad's voice carried over the distance between him and Bobby B, and Sam and I could hear everything clearly.
"Well," Bobby started, putting his Smooth Car Seller act on. "considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle-"
"Classic? It's a muscle car, dude." I said lowly, shaking my head, but he couldn't see that since he was leaned over the roof of the car, facing my dad who was on Sam's side.
"With the slick wheels and the custom paint job-"
This time, I wasn't the one to cut him off short. "But, the paint's faded." Sam complained.
Bobby gave him a blank look. "Yeah, but it's custom."
"So, it's custom faded?" I inquired. "You making this up?"
"It's your first car kids, I don't expect you to understand." The he suddenly thumped the roof with his palm. "Five grand."
"No, I'm not paying over four. Sorry." Dad immediately said.
Well, there goes our car. "Come on kids, get out of the car."
"Nonono, you said cars pick their drivers!" Sam opted.
"Sometimes they pick a driver with a cheap-ass father, now out the car." The seller said.
"Our dad isn't a cheap-ass, Bolivia!" I suddenly exclaimed. Dad sent me a glare, but he then transferred it to Bolivia, who grinned that white grin, trying to get out of the situation. "Bolivia, you are so going down." I said lowly.
"There's a Fiesta with racing stripes over there." Dad said to Sam.
"No dad, I don't want a Fiesta with racing stripes." I could almost hear Sam rolling his eyes. He wasn't a big fan of Fords, especially not old ones.
Sam reluctantly got out of the car, giving the interior one last look. Bobby started entering the Volkswagen Beetle that was just a very pale mayonnaise color. Sam stood up from the car, crossing his arms and frowning. I waited patiently for Bobby to enter the Beetle. I pulled on the door handle, but I couldn't get out. "What's with the lock…" I said absently as I tugged the handle again, but to no avail.
I tried pulling up the small aluminum covered lock indicator, trying to unlock the car, but it refused to budge.
"Let me out." I repeated, still pulling, but no. All my actions were proved to be futile, so I did the next best thing and my last option. I used my gift.
I was born with this… thing – moving objects with your hands, creating energy spheres and directing them, that was my gift. Nobody knows how I got it, only that I just have it. It was very handy, but it scared people.
A soft, blue light enveloped the lock of the car as I kept on pushing at the door. I rotated my palm, making sure to keep it hidden from prying eyes. Dad would kill me for sure if he saw me sabotaging a vehicle. I wouldn't sabotage it on purpose, but I had to get out somehow.
Bobby B started another one of his stories. "I sold a car the other day and-"
Bolivia finally got into the mayonnaise colored Beetle and just Sam closed the driver's door of the Camaro, mine flung open wildly, hitting and shaking up the Beetle Bolivia was in. Just as I quit the energy output, the door flung open.
I could have swore I didn't use that much force.
Actually, I could have swore I didn't even do anything when the door opened.
"You alright?" Dad asked, moving closer to Bolivia who had to get out of the Beetle on the passenger's side. I was so dead. I hastily got out of the 2nd gen Camaro and stood beside Sam, hoping for protection.
"Dad's so gonna kill you." Sam muttered lowly. "You tried to kill the man."
"No, I didn't." I gave him a sharp look. "I wasn't even doing anything to the door."
"Yeah well, blue light around it said otherwise." Sam shrugged.
"I didn't use my gift on the door and you know it." I narrowed my eyes at him. I know I didn't use it on the door, just the handle. Those were two very different things. I know for a fact that the blue light didn't envelop the whole of the door and that Sam was lying.
"No worries!" Bobby B emerged from the banged up Beetle unharmed. "I got a sledgehammer to knock this right out! HEY MANNY!" I flinched visibly. Again with the shouting. "Get your clown cousin and get some hammers and come bang this stuff out, baby!" He gave another one of his obnoxious laughs again.
This man, I swear…
"We are never gonna get a decent car around here." I whined to my brother.
"I know. The only good thing around here is that old Camaro, but even that's in poor condition."
"There's something off with that car, Sam." I told him. "I'm getting some weird vibes from it." I looked at the coupe again.
"What are you talking about?" He gave me a dubious look.
"I mean, it's like it's not just a car, you know?" Now even I sounded ridiculous to myself, but it was the truth!
"Of course it's just a car, don't be ridiculous." He shook his head. "It's-"
"Greater than man…" There was suddenly a radio that turned on. It came from inside the Camaro.
"It's greater than man?" I repeated as I looked at Sam with a completely befuddled expression.
"Did you do that, Nicole? You seriously gotta stop manipulating things." Sam scolded.
"It wasn't me, I told you that already!"
"Okay, this is so weird. We gotta get outta here. First the clown, then the Bolivia guy, then the ostrich in the middle of the parking lot and now with the strange radio – I'm done." He gave up, putting his arms up in a surrendering motion. "I'm done. Hey dad!"
Dad and Bolivia were deep in some conversation as Bolivia probably continued incessantly about another one of his car stories. The negro pointed to a blue old Cadillac. "That one's my favorite, drove all the way from Alabammy!"
Suddenly, there was a beeping sound and something was about to happen, I could just predict it. It was fast and rhythmic, like a ticking time bomb.
Time bomb.
Oh no.
"Duck!" I immediately yelled out as there was a faint robotic screech just as the men looked at me frowningly.
Suddenly, all the windows of the cars exploded into billions of pieces, sending all of us to the ground.
Written:
01.01.2015.