Main image
29th June
2011
posted by amber

Cool Driver

I just drive. You know, when things get too much at home. I won’t be one of those husbands who walks to the corner store for cigarettes and never comes home. For one thing, I don’t smoke. But I could just drive away one of these days.

Not that home is so bad – most of the time. I’m sure this is all normal stuff, what everyone has to put up with. The bills, the crying, you know. But driving, it’s hard to describe how it makes me feel.

I was twelve the first time I was alone behind the wheel, stretching my foot out to give it gas, learning the sensation of easing off the clutch. No way should I have been driving that car. My dad’s Pontiac. Did I get hell! But he never would have known if I hadn’t hit the lawn mower.

Could it be any cooler to be piloting a spaceship? Maybe not even as cool. Sure, you’d be going a million miles an hour, but you wouldn’t feel the pavement, you wouldn’t have any sensation of speed. And there’d be no one outside your spaceship to see how cool you are, except maybe some bug-eyed alien in their own spaceship probably much more cool than yours.

My car is cool. It’s a 1963 Corvette – really futuristic looking, at least a 1960’s vision of the future. I’ve got a lot more work to do on it, but I did the engine before I did the body so I could start driving it right away. Man, what a ride!

I hardly need an excuse to go out driving. But I do have one tonight. Boo hoo, she cries, I’m never home, and when I’m home I never do anything, and all our money goes to my stupid car (that’s a lie) and why don’t I stay home with the brats more often (didn’t I look after them just last week while she had a ‘me’ day with her friends?) and then she brought out the big guns, her father warned her that I would be a ‘poor provider.’ And that pushed my buttons all right, ‘cuz if I’m such a poor provider, how come she gets to stay home with the kids while I drag myself to work every day, to that stinking job that I hate, and she knows I hate it, and why is our mortgage so big except that her father had to get involved, pressure us to buy this house, which I really couldn’t afford.

So I hit her.

And now she’s taken the brats and took a taxi to her parent’s house.

And I’m driving.

And I’m cool.

The Story 365 project is a year-long marathon of short story writing, with a new story posted every day on this website from May 1, 2011 – April 30, 2012. Stories must be a minimum of 200 words. Please help me by adding first line suggestions in the Comment section.

Well, I had no idea for today’s story so I used a first line from a blues song, Cool Driver by Johnny Shines and Snooky Prior.

Leave a Reply