The morning drive today was mostly just folks riding right on the bumpers of the car ahead of them. It was insane. I get that being late for work is no fun, but wrecking your car in a mad dash to get to work is much, much less fun. And a terrible story. “How’d you wreck your car?” “Oh, you know, I was excited to get to work.” That conversation has never happened between people that absolutely have to be work on time. It is odd.
Today’s story is about the lady in a convertible BMW who was tired of the car riding her bumper.
Today’s tale is titled: Ashes
Ruth purchased her sleek BMW with a convertible roof five months ago. It was a gift from her, to her. She earned it. She works hard for her money and decided a little vehicular treat was in order. She has longed for a car she could hop into, listen to the engine purr and drive as fast as she wants. The pop-top reminded her of old Hollywood glamour. Her first trip in the car was to purchase a driving scarf; something that could waft behind her as the wind whipped around the cabin.
Ruth has short cut (poorly) dyed red hair. It is not affected by the wind. Every follicle is in its place. Her oversized sunglasses shield her from the morning sun. In her right hand one of those long cigarette holders. She does not want her fingernails to stain or hands to smell of smoke when she gets to work, so she has fully embraced the classic style. She holds the cigarette so that the smoke rolling from the fiery end zips out of the car entirely.
Ruth learned long ago that the only thing she could rely on in this world is herself. She opened a storage facility after college, taking a small loan from her parents. It did well, but all of her hired help kept losing keys and one guy even stole from storage lockers. She never replaced people after they left. She just took on more work and before long the facility ran better than ever. She purchased a roller rink in the 80s and really developed her ability to trust others. For the most part though, she is a firm believer in “if you need something done, do it yourself.”
Her current endeavor is managing a five location bowling alley chain. When she came into ownership of the first building, she thought she really pinned down the details. Things moved faster in the bowling biz. Patrons first demanded then fancy balls, then painted pins, the “cosmic” bowling. It was wildly inconvenient for her. To ward off stress, she bought out neighboring alleys. Before long she was a bowling magnate in control of the local market.
It may not be much, but being a powerful local area bowling alley magnate is enough.
So as she drives down the highway with the even the wind unable to move her, she has little patience for the beat down looking rusted Honda Accord riding on her bumper. She sees the car in her rear view mirror and smirks. Her right hand moves skyward and falls into position just above her head and the windshield. With a little flick of her thumb she sends her cigarette ash flying onto the bothersome sedan.
No one messes with Ruth.
Thanks for reading!
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Shawn Writes Stuff 