Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Worthless ❯ Speed 2: The Birth of A Car ( Chapter 2 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

By: MellyN

Worthless

By: Melissa Norvell

Speed 2: The Birth of A Car

I was built in 1970, in a short-lived line of cars called Plymouth Road Runner Superbirds. We are highly modified versions of the Plymouth Road Runner, which itself, was simply a modified Belvedere with special drive train and suspension options.

We were the factory's follow on stock cars for the 1970 season to the Dodge Charger Daytona. The Plymouth factory incorporated many engineering modifications from the Daytona's seasonal competition on the track. I'm not sure on our reason for being, but I was heard by others of my type that it was to lure Richard Petty, a famous race car driver at the time, back to Plymouth.

We Superbirds, and our unmodified Road Runner siblings were featured with a protruding, aerodynamic nosecone, a high-mounted wing, and in the Superbird's case, a horn that mimicked the Road Runner cartoon character. I was given birth to in Detroit, Michigan as a two-door coupe with a platform B-body and 426 Hemi 440 Super Commando engine.

I was a car built for the speed of the fast lane.

Superbirds were developed specifically for NASCAR racing. We were uncompetitive with our smoothed-out body and nosecone that were further refined from that of the Daytona, and the street version's retractable headlights added 19 inches to us. It was the start of a trend of rules that slowed down NASCAR, because the races were exceeding the technology of tire safety over 200 miles per hour.

I have to admit, as valuable as I am now, being the most sought after classic car in existence, my creation was a tough one. After I came off of the assembly line, Superbirds were considered a little too extreme for the 70's crowd. Only 1,920 of us were even built and sat unsold at dealerships until 1972. Some of us were converted into Road Runners just to get us out of the lots.

I remember sitting on the lot for at least a year. To me, it was fascinating to watch the people as they walked by and took glances at me. Children with their mothers would run up to me and admire their reflections in my Limelight Green surface. Young children were always so curious about cars and to see their eyes light up at the sight of me brought me joy.

However, their mothers didn't seem too happy with their children touching me. Kids could be a danger as well as a joy. The really small ones could also do some serious damage to one's interior, or so I was told by some of the reupholstered trade-ins.

The car lot always seemed to have a cheery atmosphere. It was filled with new, optimistic cars who were excited about what master they may get that day, as well as old trade-ins that told a few good tales of masters of the past. Dealerships often treated cars kindly. For the year that I sat there, waiting to be sold and find a master, I had always remembered happy times. However, they do say innocence is bliss.

After the year had passed, I began to lose hope that I would even find a master. So many had passed, both young and old, and as much as they admired my many seemingly attractive features and interesting concept, it was not enough to find me a suitable home. NASCAR's homologation requirement that demanded vehicles to be raced must be available to the general public and sold through dealerships in specific minimum numbers. Due to increasing emissions regulations, combined with insurance hikes for high performance cars, the year I came out would be my model's only production year.

I saw many cars come and go through this particular dealership, happy with their new masters, who seemed to love them very much. I had often wondered what that feeling of bliss must be like. To be wanted and in demand, like several of the popular 70's models was a dream of mine. I felt like one of the oldest unsought after cars on the lot, and I probably was.

I remembered the salesman talking to one of the other staff members at the dealership about converting some of the Superbirds back into Road Runners to get them off of the lot and clear the way for new stock. I wondered if they would come around and convert me back as well. I was built for the raceway, and coming straight off of the assembly line, they were already talking about downsizing me. It could have been worse but at the same time, it was something that deeply upset me. I felt like I would be deprived of a chance to shine and I was already being cut short by being considered too high tech and edgy.

I knew I would probably find a master sooner if I were to be converted back into a Road Runner and I might even get used to being that way, but it was disheartening all the same.

I couldn't convince myself that I would like that change if it ever happened.

-X-

A couple of weeks later, my luck changed when the salesman brought over two men. One was a tall, blonde young man who appeared in his late teens and the other was an older, built man who looked to be in his late forties and wore a gruff expression and a backwards baseball cap. I assumed that the older man was the boy's father.

"Is this the one you've had your eye on?" The man glanced to his son with a stern expression. He looked like the type of man you didn't want to get into a fight with.

"Yeah," but despite this fact, the teen simply beamed at him with a broad smile, filled with hope. "I've seen this guy on the lot every time we went past here on the way to the grocery store. I know that mom doesn't want me to have it, but it's the only car I really want. It's perfect for me. I just know it."

This young man had so many compliments towards me. I felt very happy to know that someone had been admiring me from a far, much less looking at me at all. He said I was perfect for him. I hoped he'd take me for a test drive at least. It had been far too long since I had someone sit on my seats that wasn't a salesman moving me around the lot. I would love it most of all, if he would become my new master.

Although his father seemed skeptical of me and his expression was never changing. In a stern voice, he asked the salesman if he could look under my hood as the man was explaining my many features to him. I could tell that someone like him had a lot of experience with cars, maybe even performance cars like myself.

The salesman granted his request as the man lifted up my hood. The blonde beside of him seemed interested as well as he walked around my nosecone to the right side of me and peered inside in wonder.

"Wow! This car has a 426 Hemi!" The boy exclaimed as he caught sight of what kind of engine I possessed. It was a big deal, I suppose, only 135 of us were fitted with the 426 Hemi, and I was one of the select few.

"Are you sure that you can handle a car like this?" The man asked with a hand beneath his chin and a skeptical look plastered on his features. "This isn't something that you can just screw around with. Remember what happened to Gary." His words seemed like those of a warning that resulted in harsh consequences if it wasn't followed. I wondered to myself what such words meant. Who was Gary? Why was what happened to him so important? Did it involve a Superbird? Is that why he's so cynical about me? A million similar questions ran through my internal workings as I tried to process this important information.

"Dad, you can't keep comparing us. If you don't give me a chance, you won't even know what I can do," the boy pleaded with his father over the subject. "You and Gary have driven stock cars for a living-" He was cut off.

"…and that's another reason that I retired from it. Didn't you hear the salesman? This car is taken straight from the stock car design. It's a racing aero car. It was designed to go fast," his father shut my hood and walked to my rear end, grabbing the right base of my wing with his strong hand. "Look at this. It's got a rear spoiler that's mounted high, so it's put into less disturbed air," he continued to explain how that affected my down shaft. After wards, he explained the purpose of my rear fender scoops and how they helped in brake cooling. "This car was made for a speed way."

My hopes of being bought just sank down to my tires. His father absolutely hated me. From what I gather, this Gary fellow was killed in something affiliated with stock cars. Whether the car in question was a Superbird or otherwise didn't truly matter. My type of car caused the death of someone either related to him or close to him, and I was branded with that reputation.

I did nothing wrong. I wasn't even given a chance.

"I don't see why this is such a big deal. I've wanted this car for two months. Can't you just give me a chance?" I heard the younger man defend both himself and me in a desperate attempt to talk his father into letting him purchase me. There was that contradicting happiness I felt. Finally, after a year of sitting here, I had found a potential master who not only wanted me, but was fighting to buy me.

I was beyond flattered…but I had to accept the fact that I may not be bought by these two as well. That meant another year's stay on the lot and my eventual conversion.

"You shouldn't judge me by what happened to Gary," the blonde didn't back down, and had a voice filled with fiery determination. His passion captivated me. "You can't judge us like we're the same person."

His father was silent for a few moments with his back turned to the boy. Steely blue eyes stared me down before his face morphed into an expression of defeat. "I'll give you a chance to prove yourself. If you can't do that, then we'll get rid of this car." He sighed and mumbled something about how his wife was going to kill him when she found out that he was allowing his son to purchase me.

The blonde smiled brightly, overjoyed that his father agreed to his demands. I was happy as well. For once, I could experience the feeling of bliss that I had longed for so long. Patience was a virtue, and I would finally have myself a new master. My time to shine and become useful had surfaced.

-X-

The ride to my new home was a happy one, filled with the boy's excitement and loud music blaring over my speaker system. I had learned a lot of things about my new master. His name was Blake Seinsnig and his father was a retired stock car racing champion. He's won many races and was quite popular in the racing circuit before he retired. Blake's brother, Gary Seinsnig, was killed in a stock car crash on the race way.

I can see why his father had ill thoughts towards me after overhearing that conversation. I had a feeling that his mother would be a lot less accepting of me when Blake arrived at his house. That made me weary. I wondered what she would think of me but at the same time, had an eerie feeling that I wouldn't like it.

When we arrived at his house, Blake and his father parked me in the driveway. Their brick house was beautiful and spacious. I could tell that the family I had went to was very well off. They also had a very nice four-car garage. I was anxious to see what the inside of it looked like, and what other cars I'd be sharing it with. Watching them go into the house, I sat there for a while and looked around in wonder. I had only seen neighborhoods like this when I was taken for a test drive. It was hard for me to gather. There were so many houses, cars and people.

It seemed so quaint and peaceful.

Moments passed before they exited the house with a woman that I assumed was Blake's mother. She was tall for a woman, but very slender with shoulder-length, brown, curly hair. She wore a red dress and matching heels, and when she saw me sitting in the drive way, she stopped dead in her tracks. Everything fell silent for a moment, as if someone had died.

"What kind of car is that?" She pointed at me in disapproval. Her voice was sharp and angry. It was almost as if the woman was offended by my presence.

Blake ran over to me and flung his arms out with, what looked like a nervous, flashy smile. "It's my new car! Pretty awesome, huh?" My master tried to stay upbeat about everything as his mother crossed her arms and stuck out her bottom lip. She shot his father a nasty glare.

"And, whose idea was this?" She asked in displeasure.

"It was your son's idea," the elder man was quick to remove any blame from himself. His tone of voice indicated that he knew she would have a reaction like that.

The blonde beside of me put his arms down and sighed. "Come on, Mom. You could at least be happy for me. This is the car I was talking about. You know the awesome green car I liked? I talked to the dealer and he told us that no one was interested in it because of the increasing emissions regulations and the high-risk insurance for the bad boy."

His mother didn't seem to like that information either.

"How are you going to pay for that yourself?" She questioned.

"I have a job, and I've been saving up the money. My goal has been to save up enough to afford this guy, and I've worked really hard," Blake tried to make all of the reasons in the world to keep me. Even if I just came off of the assembly line and this was my first master, it felt good to be wanted this much. After I had such a hard life of being unsold for a year, I felt deprived of appreciation like this.

"I can even get a second job before I start college as long as I can keep it. This is my dream car. I'm not just going to take it back because you don't like racing cars and sports cars." I just knew that I had a good master, and even if it seemed wrong, I was happy that he stood up for what he believed in, no matter if he was right or not.

I was…his dream car?

I felt very special and as his dream car, I didn't want to disappoint him.

For the first time in my life in society, I felt truly cherished. I finally knew what it was like to be worthy.

"Why don't you just let him have the car for a while and see how he does? He needs to learn responsibility, and I think this is a great way to do it. If he can make the payments on time, he can establish some credit," his father tried to be optimistic about the situation, but I could tell that his mother didn't find the idea too favorable.

"Say what you want, but the only good muscle car is a smashed one. This first time anything bad comes out of this, I'll make sure that green thing gets sold as fast as the last sports car we had around this house," the woman pointed a condemning finger at me, as if I were the worst thing in the world. She then retreated back into the house with angry posture and mumbled something about a green death trap at the garage door.

I assumed that she was talking about me.

My master sighed in relief as he ran a hand through his long, blonde hair. I didn't blame him for being so stressed out. That was a hard acceptance ceremony.

It felt more like a persecution.

At least he got to keep me. I was perfectly fine with that and felt a bit relieved myself. I watched as Blake and his father as they talked in the front yard for a while. While the two males were engaged in conversation, I looked around at the garage. It was in front of me and the large, dark green door and I had somewhat of a stare down. I tried to see if I could make out the hoods of any cars that might have been in there.

There was something white inside; I assumed that it was another car of some kind. I wondered what type of car it was, and how it would react to me once it saw me.

I soon found out when I felt a cold drop of rain splash against the tip of my nosecone. A moment after, Blake held out his hands and asked his father if he felt any rain. The elder man instructed his son to pull me into the garage. Blake climbed in as the garage door lifted, and I could see everything clearly. There was one other car, which was odd because there was so much space in there.

Glancing around at the shelves of trophies and tools, I pulled up beside of the other car- a white and green 1956 Nash Rambler, whose license plate read MYNASH.

Despite it being older than I was by nearly 20 years, it looked in perfect condition. Blake got out and shut the door as I heard the garage door slowly creak to a shut as the sound of faint rain took over. A clap of thunder sounded across the skies as the rain poured down heavily. The teen made his way into the house, leaving me there with the Nash Rambler.

It was silent for a moment before I heard it speak to me in a distinguished voice. "Well, aren't you all nice and shiny?"

The Rambler sounded as if it had just stirred awake. The thunder and engine noise probably woke it up. It had been asleep the whole time. "I assume you're Blake's new car."

After a moment, I replied with a positive to its question, and hoped that it didn't feel too imposed by my presence.

…To Be Continued