I just love riding down the road topless, the sun shining off of my exterior, and the music blaring tunes as I smile flying past the pine trees, the birds of prey soaring overhead.
I sat in that lot for a year waiting for someone to take me home. The glitter in my copper orange paint shone beautifully but everyone passed me up for bright red or trendy mint. I should have known that a lady who used to have a farm called “Pumpkin Hollow Farm” would scream when she saw me. I didn’t really think about it, but I do suppose I look like a pumpkin. She named me Fernando.
The lady didn’t know how fun driving a car could be. She would rather stay home or have someone else drive. But the breeze just tousling her hair, and the smooth turns, and sleek interior make her feel like a wild race car driver, a polar opposite of her usual serious demeanor.
A few people laughed when they saw me and warned the lady not to get in a wreck with me. I’m so small, they said. Well, when the lady was watching the other lane and saw a big truck merging into traffic on the other side she didn’t notice the car in front of her had stopped suddenly to turn left. Twenty feet from the car, going sixty miles an hour, the lady saw herself dying through the car ahead. In a blink of an eye, I shot around that car with such ease and maneuver that the lady was shocked. I saved her life. Her old truck couldn’t have responded like that or have gotten her safely around the stopped car. That is what Italian sports cars are made for, you know. Even if I do look like a pumpkin out of Cinderella.
The lady tried never to get too attached to material items. But she forgot that one can enjoy a material item while here being human. She has never had so much fun driving around in her little Pumpkin Fiat.
Have fun, People. Life is short. (And maybe get a Fiat. There are plenty waiting for homes.) Love, Fernando