What I'm Working On, fanfic-wise...

Basic systems on. Auditory: engaged.

“…a little scratched……beat up…”
“…understand…”
“…still drives …condition excellent…”

Communications: damaged.

“A bargain……offers…interested?...”
“…not sure…”

Visual: offline.


“How much?”


-------

While I was quite possibly the absolute farthest thing from a car expert of any kind, I still knew when I was getting a sweet deal. And my new car definitely counted as one of those instances.
At first, I was beyond pissed that my old car had died. My grandmother had saved a scrimping college student a couple grand by passing down her old car when she bought a new one. That was exciting enough, and it had worked like a dream for quite a well. It got great gas mileage, did well in all weather, and rarely needed any repairs. I thought it would last me a good long time.
So you can imagine my frustration when it just completely crapped out on me one day—when I was late for class. Of course.
I didn’t realize how nice it was to have my own car until I had to do without for two weeks.
But then I scraped together enough cash to buy myself something used and hopefully cheap. Taking the bus was starting to grate onto my nerves, and with school over, I had some money back from book return and I didn’t have to pay tuition for a while. So, armed with my checkbook, I headed out to the nearest used car dealership.
I am under the distinct impression that these salespeople can tell when someone has money burning a hole in their pocket. I don’t know if it’s a sense, or a smell, or what, but they know. Not two seconds after I stepped onto the lot, I was approached by a smiling man with too much hair gel and a five-dollar, polka-dotted tie. He looked so stereotypically “car salesman” that I had to wonder for a moment if I was being Punk’d.
“Well, hello there, little miss! Looking to purchase an automobile?”
A part of me really, really wanted to roll my eyes and inform him that, no, I was in fact looking to purchase a hamburger. But for the sake of diplomacy, I refrained.
Plastering on my best interested smile, I nodded. “Yes. But I’m on a budget.”
Undeterred, the man—Bob, his name tag proclaimed—spread his arms wide, as if beckoning her to be awed by the parking lot full of scraps that could barely be considered cars. “You’ve come to the right place! Bargain Bob is my name, budgets are my game!”
With that beyond cheesy self-introduction, he turned to lead the way through the ‘cars’. I rolled my eyes behind his back and followed.
We walked through rows and rows of cars while Bob prattled on and on about the ‘first class collection’ full of ‘luxury imports.’ Tuning him out, I managed a nod and polite noise of agreement here and there. Apparently I couldn’t trust a word this guy said.
A few of these cars actually did look promising, but that was it. Nothing stood out or really got me interested. Nothing really caught my eye until we reached one of the last few rows.
Bargain Boy was raving on about the engine on a rusted car that was probably twice as old as I was, when a flash of reflected sunlight caught my eye.
At the end of the row to our left sat a small silver car that looked distinctly out of place among the other junkers. It looked a little worse for the wear, with some sizeable scratches and dents here and there, messing up the paint job. But it was clear that the car was seriously nice before whatever accident landed it in its current condition. I left Bob to continue his one-sided sales pitch and wandered over to get a closer look.
As much as I didn’t really care about brand names on cars (as long as they got me from place to place, they were considered good enough), I couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy as I stared down at the shiny vehicle in front of me.
It’s not everyday you come across a Pontiac Solstice in a used-car lot.
It was a small, two-person car with sleek lines and a tail fin. It was a recent model, it was a far cry from the rather soccer-mom sedan I previously drove, and I was willing to bet all the money in my bank account that it was FAST.
And, suddenly, I was itching to test that theory.
Jamie would jump at the chance to work on such a fine car, I thought dryly. The damage was extensive in terms of surface area, but it was nothing that couldn’t be fixed. I wouldn’t have to worry about finding a mechanic when I had a car-crazy best friend.
I leaned in the open window and was surprised to see that the interior was in even better condition. It honestly looked like some sucker had bought the car and gotten into an accident the first time they drove it, because the inside looked brand new. The seats were black leather and perfectly clean. There was a pretty high-tech, scary-looking stereo in the dashboard, currently dark since the car was off. The only damage I could see inside was a curious line across the back seat, as if the front had been ripped from the back and then stitched expertly back together.
“Nice ride, isn’t it?” came a voice behind me, and I jumped, ducking back out sheepishly.
Bob stood on the other side of the car, apparently having finally noticed that I had wandered off. He cast a wistful glance at the silver sports car. “This one’s been here for a while. Shipped in from somewhere across the country.”
I cocked my head. “Why hasn’t anyone bought it yet?” I was really hoping he wouldn’t say that it was too expensive. I had a sudden urge to own this car, and soon. My hand stayed firm on the window.
He straightened his tie with a chuckle, puffing out his chest. “Certainly not because of poor salesmanship.” I had to fight reeeally hard not to roll my eyes. “People just don’t want to buy a car that’s been in a wreck. Don’t trust it. So what if it’s a little scratched, a little beat up?”
I shifted. “Well, I guess I understand that…”
“Still drives like a dream,” he covered hastily. “Thought I’d have engine trouble with it, but the thing still has plenty of life in it. All things considered, its condition is excellent.”
“What exactly happened to it?” It must have been a strange kind of crash to cause such random damage.
He shrugged. “Not too sure. We get accident cases like this all the time.” He smiled as if feeling the promise of a sale. “It’s quite a bargain, considering we don’t get many offers. Are you interested?”
“Not sure yet.” I cast another look down at the vehicle, suddenly picturing myself behind the wheel. And I liked that mental image. A lot. But was it really such a good idea to buy a car with so little thought?
“We’ve got a nice ten-day return policy. Anything goes wrong, bring it back, no questions—”
“How much?”



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A Transformers fanfiction