Once upon a time there was a car. His hubcaps shined like the stars above an empty desert and his paint was as smooth as an undiscovered dune. His interior was the color of a thundercloud and was as healthy as a puppy’s young coat. Short wanders through village streets occupied his time when not parked in his carpeted garage. Though few, his friends were warm and greeted him with kindness. He rarely left his community and was content with each simple and unadventurous day.
Time ticked like a dancing woman ages. Slowly, each day became less enjoyable. The high sun sagged low and his favorite streets wrinkled. Crows fallowed him and squawked insults . His horn constantly yelled obscenities and his brakes squeaked. Charisma leaked out of loose nuts and steam rose from hot hoses. He became tired, bored and ill.
Tears gathered in a thick puddle on the ground under his rusty body. His faded paint sulked and became a target for overhead birds. He cried as younger cars purred. Though still young, he felt aged beyond repair. Depression slowly defeated the urge to drive. His mind played tricks on him and his body showed the scars of mockery. Trash was hung from his antenna and his doors became cluttered with the ideas of others. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.