goforitifudare
05-15-2007, 01:05 AM
Here is a quickie i wrote yesterday, for a 1 hour challenge.
Its my first attempt to write in the first person, so let me know what you think.
=================
HER MAJESTY
We called her ‘Her Majesty’ because the ol’ gal demanded that you obey her. And she was royalty. A 1959 Chrysler Royal to be exact. With her 313 cubic inch V-8 engine pumping out 200HP, she was a real beauty. A classic from the past, when cars were made of steel, and were judged in beauty by how long the fins were, and how much chrome was dripping off every corner. We bought her back in ’62 from a dealer in San Francisco who claimed at the time it was the ‘best used car deal in town’. That was good enough for us, and we parted with the money quickly, to secure the deal. Though as we were leaving the lot, we heard him say the exact same thing to a young couple looking at a Ford Customline, so I guess deals changed pretty quick back then.
Over the years, ‘Her Majesty’ has driven us to the movies, and watched us fall in love. She was there for our wedding, draped in ribbons, and looking every bit the royalty that she was. She took us to the hospital for the birth of our first child, Zach. And then, when our second child was born two years later, ‘Her Majesty’ was up to the task, and dutifully delivered us to the hospital again, where Teagan was born. She was there for me, when I had to take my wife to the doctors to find out why she had been so ill. And on the saddest day of my life, when my beautiful wife passed away from Cancer, ‘Her Majesty’ was there for me still. I polished her until she shone like the day we bought her, for the funeral, and she made me proud, gleaming in the sun, on a day where everything else felt dark and gloomy. I felt like she shed a tear that day as well. And now, three years since that day, ‘Her Majesty’ still faithfully drives me where I need to go, and always delivers me back home safely.
Of course, she has seen better days. Where the chrome once shone a bright silver, it is now dull, lifeless and pitted with rust spots. And her once gleaming Black paint has mostly peeled away over the years, leaving her looking like a ragged and dirty old hobo, with the outer layers hanging off, and showing her years. On the inside, the once supple, soft, and beautiful red vinyl is now wrinkled, scuffed, and scarred, with a few holes here and there. And the once perfect, smooth Powerflite automatic transmission, with her push buttons that glowed softly on the dashboard, is now harsh, moody, and clunky when it changes between the two gears. But to me, she was beautiful. Perfect in every way.
Today, I am an old man, and my children are constantly scolding me for still driving the ol’ gal. They say she is dangerous. Unroadworthy or some such nonsense. But I know she will get me to my destination without missing a beat, the same way she has for the past 45 years.
Some say that a car has a limited lifetime. No more than twenty years they say. Others say forty, fifty, eighty or even a hundred years. I like to believe that a car has no limited lifetime at all. I can’t bear the thought of ‘Her Majesty’ not being around for me, she is like a partner. If you look after her, love her, and treat her right, she will stick by you, and do you proud until eternity. Of course, ‘Her Majesty’ wont need to last that long.
So now, sitting here behind her white steering wheel, with the bench seat wrapping its way around my body, its soft, worn springs hugging me, I can’t help but wonder what would happen to the ol’ gal when I’m gone. I can’t bear the thought of some young lout getting his hands on her, and treating her badly. I know Zach would not pay it any mind, and Teagan would certainly not want her. Probably they would send her away to the scrap yard, and there she would spend the rest of her life, slowly rusting away, nameless, lifeless and unknown amongst the thousands of other cars. Each one with its own story, its own life, and its own identity. People don’t realize that a car has an identity, but it does. Every single one. Even those modern things, full of plastic, with body panels that look as though there were made from aluminium cans. They all have a life; an identity. And if they could talk, every single one of them could tell more stories than you or I put together.
I know ‘Her Majesty’ could tell some stories. But they will have to wait for another day. For the ol’ gal has a special trip to make today. I have thought long and hard about this decision. Ever since I was told by the Doctors that the lump in my groin was Cancer, I have thought about this day. I watched my beautiful wife struggle with the illness for nine years, before she finally succumbed to its hold. And I can’t go through that again. So there is only one way out. Of course, Zach and Teagan will be upset, but probably they will just put it down to my old age, and the car. Something faulty on her is what they will most likely say. I can almost hear them now, blaming ‘Her Majesty’ for everything. But I know it won’t be her fault. She would never do anything to hurt me, nor me to her. And while it pains me to think that she might suffer, it somewhat eases the burden to know that we will be doing this together. The same way I have done most things in my life, with ‘Her Majesty’ right there. And at least this way, no young lout will get his hands on her after I’m gone.
Anyway, enough of my rambling, its time we started our journey, the ol’ gal and I, it’s the end of the road so to speak. I know ‘Her Majesty’ will do me proud, as she always does; she won’t let me down. If we leave now we will reach the canyons by nightfall, and as we drive over the edge of the highest canyon together, bringing to a sad end our beautiful partnership, I will say a prayer for her, and I hope you will say a prayer for me.
Its my first attempt to write in the first person, so let me know what you think.
=================
HER MAJESTY
We called her ‘Her Majesty’ because the ol’ gal demanded that you obey her. And she was royalty. A 1959 Chrysler Royal to be exact. With her 313 cubic inch V-8 engine pumping out 200HP, she was a real beauty. A classic from the past, when cars were made of steel, and were judged in beauty by how long the fins were, and how much chrome was dripping off every corner. We bought her back in ’62 from a dealer in San Francisco who claimed at the time it was the ‘best used car deal in town’. That was good enough for us, and we parted with the money quickly, to secure the deal. Though as we were leaving the lot, we heard him say the exact same thing to a young couple looking at a Ford Customline, so I guess deals changed pretty quick back then.
Over the years, ‘Her Majesty’ has driven us to the movies, and watched us fall in love. She was there for our wedding, draped in ribbons, and looking every bit the royalty that she was. She took us to the hospital for the birth of our first child, Zach. And then, when our second child was born two years later, ‘Her Majesty’ was up to the task, and dutifully delivered us to the hospital again, where Teagan was born. She was there for me, when I had to take my wife to the doctors to find out why she had been so ill. And on the saddest day of my life, when my beautiful wife passed away from Cancer, ‘Her Majesty’ was there for me still. I polished her until she shone like the day we bought her, for the funeral, and she made me proud, gleaming in the sun, on a day where everything else felt dark and gloomy. I felt like she shed a tear that day as well. And now, three years since that day, ‘Her Majesty’ still faithfully drives me where I need to go, and always delivers me back home safely.
Of course, she has seen better days. Where the chrome once shone a bright silver, it is now dull, lifeless and pitted with rust spots. And her once gleaming Black paint has mostly peeled away over the years, leaving her looking like a ragged and dirty old hobo, with the outer layers hanging off, and showing her years. On the inside, the once supple, soft, and beautiful red vinyl is now wrinkled, scuffed, and scarred, with a few holes here and there. And the once perfect, smooth Powerflite automatic transmission, with her push buttons that glowed softly on the dashboard, is now harsh, moody, and clunky when it changes between the two gears. But to me, she was beautiful. Perfect in every way.
Today, I am an old man, and my children are constantly scolding me for still driving the ol’ gal. They say she is dangerous. Unroadworthy or some such nonsense. But I know she will get me to my destination without missing a beat, the same way she has for the past 45 years.
Some say that a car has a limited lifetime. No more than twenty years they say. Others say forty, fifty, eighty or even a hundred years. I like to believe that a car has no limited lifetime at all. I can’t bear the thought of ‘Her Majesty’ not being around for me, she is like a partner. If you look after her, love her, and treat her right, she will stick by you, and do you proud until eternity. Of course, ‘Her Majesty’ wont need to last that long.
So now, sitting here behind her white steering wheel, with the bench seat wrapping its way around my body, its soft, worn springs hugging me, I can’t help but wonder what would happen to the ol’ gal when I’m gone. I can’t bear the thought of some young lout getting his hands on her, and treating her badly. I know Zach would not pay it any mind, and Teagan would certainly not want her. Probably they would send her away to the scrap yard, and there she would spend the rest of her life, slowly rusting away, nameless, lifeless and unknown amongst the thousands of other cars. Each one with its own story, its own life, and its own identity. People don’t realize that a car has an identity, but it does. Every single one. Even those modern things, full of plastic, with body panels that look as though there were made from aluminium cans. They all have a life; an identity. And if they could talk, every single one of them could tell more stories than you or I put together.
I know ‘Her Majesty’ could tell some stories. But they will have to wait for another day. For the ol’ gal has a special trip to make today. I have thought long and hard about this decision. Ever since I was told by the Doctors that the lump in my groin was Cancer, I have thought about this day. I watched my beautiful wife struggle with the illness for nine years, before she finally succumbed to its hold. And I can’t go through that again. So there is only one way out. Of course, Zach and Teagan will be upset, but probably they will just put it down to my old age, and the car. Something faulty on her is what they will most likely say. I can almost hear them now, blaming ‘Her Majesty’ for everything. But I know it won’t be her fault. She would never do anything to hurt me, nor me to her. And while it pains me to think that she might suffer, it somewhat eases the burden to know that we will be doing this together. The same way I have done most things in my life, with ‘Her Majesty’ right there. And at least this way, no young lout will get his hands on her after I’m gone.
Anyway, enough of my rambling, its time we started our journey, the ol’ gal and I, it’s the end of the road so to speak. I know ‘Her Majesty’ will do me proud, as she always does; she won’t let me down. If we leave now we will reach the canyons by nightfall, and as we drive over the edge of the highest canyon together, bringing to a sad end our beautiful partnership, I will say a prayer for her, and I hope you will say a prayer for me.