Post by Rider on Jun 21, 2017 19:57:00 GMT
The machine stared coldly at the blazing sun on the horizon. He stood atop a cliff, overhung across the quiet, clear sea below. The evening of a hot day began to cool down, the wind commencing its gentle breeze upon the calm grass. Rider dug his right hand deep into his pocket, producing a small comb the width of his palm. He held it up to his head and started running it through his hair, squinting at the distant land.
Though, the short silence was broken by a loud grumble in the distance. The engine of a car, bumping about the hills, approaching the cliff. Rider turned his head and glanced at the source of the noise. An old, rusted pickup truck, dragging along a shiny black mustang-lookalike car through the grass. He grinned open-mouthed - he could not believe his eyes, fixating them on the car, spinning around fully on his heel.
He jogged along to the truck as it came to a halt - the driver cut the engine; a loud rattling noise followed. He opened the door, hopping down from the inside onto the dry dirt below, a key secured tightly in his fist. He was a short and elderly man, with an unkempt farmer’s moustache covering his upper lip. He sported a worn and tattered cap, woven into it the name of his company along with a faded green jumpsuit and a stained white undershirt.
“Well - she took a bit of work, fixin’ up - all that stuff, but practically she’s good as new.” he said, a gritty tone to his voice.
Rider nodded. He glanced at the old man, then back at the car, adjusting his sunglasses.
“How did you even get that?” he asked inquisitively.
“Pulled a few strings at the warehouse - where we get all our parts from. This girl’s a beauty.” he folded his arms with a look of pride on his face.
“I see.” Rider dug both hands into his pocket, approaching the car. The old man shortly followed. He rubbed his mouth with his hand, chuckling to himself quietly. The old man edged closer to him, holding out the key with an open palm.
Rider unfolded his arms just as quickly as he folded them, turning slightly and lifting the key from the old man’s hand.
“Thank you.”
“No trouble.”
the old man said with a tone of regret.
“Guess that’s it.” Rider opened the door of the car with the silver handle and sat down inside on the fine leather seat.
“Takin’ er’ for a spin around the Capitol’d be a good idea." he went on quietly, "I wo’dnt mind doin’ that meself - but, she’s all yours.”
Rider slammed the key into the ignition, turning it. The engine roared to life.
“If there’s any problems -”
“Got it. Don’t worry.”
he smiled, resting his right hand on the rubber coated steering wheel and his left on the gear stick.
It was silent in the middle of the Diablo Desert. A lone car on the side of the road was being heaved forward by a figure in a faded red floral shirt and sunglasses. The car had its hood up with smoke pouring out of the engine. A car passed by every half hour, with no intent of stopping to help the man.
He didn’t seem to be getting tired, pushing the car for hours on end with no sign of stopping. Despite the heat, which would have been unbearable to any other man, there were no water or lunch breaks. It was evening time now, the sun beginning to set.
Though, the short silence was broken by a loud grumble in the distance. The engine of a car, bumping about the hills, approaching the cliff. Rider turned his head and glanced at the source of the noise. An old, rusted pickup truck, dragging along a shiny black mustang-lookalike car through the grass. He grinned open-mouthed - he could not believe his eyes, fixating them on the car, spinning around fully on his heel.
He jogged along to the truck as it came to a halt - the driver cut the engine; a loud rattling noise followed. He opened the door, hopping down from the inside onto the dry dirt below, a key secured tightly in his fist. He was a short and elderly man, with an unkempt farmer’s moustache covering his upper lip. He sported a worn and tattered cap, woven into it the name of his company along with a faded green jumpsuit and a stained white undershirt.
“Well - she took a bit of work, fixin’ up - all that stuff, but practically she’s good as new.” he said, a gritty tone to his voice.
Rider nodded. He glanced at the old man, then back at the car, adjusting his sunglasses.
“How did you even get that?” he asked inquisitively.
“Pulled a few strings at the warehouse - where we get all our parts from. This girl’s a beauty.” he folded his arms with a look of pride on his face.
“I see.” Rider dug both hands into his pocket, approaching the car. The old man shortly followed. He rubbed his mouth with his hand, chuckling to himself quietly. The old man edged closer to him, holding out the key with an open palm.
Rider unfolded his arms just as quickly as he folded them, turning slightly and lifting the key from the old man’s hand.
“Thank you.”
“No trouble.”
the old man said with a tone of regret.
“Guess that’s it.” Rider opened the door of the car with the silver handle and sat down inside on the fine leather seat.
“Takin’ er’ for a spin around the Capitol’d be a good idea." he went on quietly, "I wo’dnt mind doin’ that meself - but, she’s all yours.”
Rider slammed the key into the ignition, turning it. The engine roared to life.
“If there’s any problems -”
“Got it. Don’t worry.”
he smiled, resting his right hand on the rubber coated steering wheel and his left on the gear stick.
--- o ---
It was silent in the middle of the Diablo Desert. A lone car on the side of the road was being heaved forward by a figure in a faded red floral shirt and sunglasses. The car had its hood up with smoke pouring out of the engine. A car passed by every half hour, with no intent of stopping to help the man.
He didn’t seem to be getting tired, pushing the car for hours on end with no sign of stopping. Despite the heat, which would have been unbearable to any other man, there were no water or lunch breaks. It was evening time now, the sun beginning to set.