Intro: The challenge words were "thirteen, Chevrolet and pedestrian". Not immediately the most inspiring trio, but this text is unanimously considered a good one. Maybe I should write more romances. Oh, and the illustration doesn’t really happen in the text, but I thought it was a pretty beautiful image representing Nelly’s dreams.
Nelly believed in serendipity and second chances. That happiness was hers to be found and claimed again, just behind the horizon. And that there was no better way to get there than a road trip with no return plan.
Unless your car breaks down in the middle of the state route, thirteen miles from the next town, and nobody stops to help you. Nelly had been walking with her thumb up for an hour when, finally, a car slowed down and stopped a bit ahead of her. It was an old rust-coloured Chevrolet truck, and for a moment Nelly envisioned a creepy old hillbilly man, scavenging for defenseless pedestrians along this endless road to indulge in his most depraved desires. She swallowed, then ran to the car anyway.
The driver smiled a lazy smile at Nelly. She was a hillbilly alright, but not like Nelly had imagined. She was in her late twenties, thirty tops, with brown curls turned blonde in the sun and matching freckles. “I assume that Ford was yours?” she said.
Nelly nodded. “My grandfather’s, actually. But he finally died on me.” Then she winced, realizing what she said. But the driver didn’t seem to notice. Or mind.
“You got far.”
“Thanks.” Nelly patted the side of the truck. “Sure wouldn’t mind a lift though.”
“Hop in, girlfriend.”
“Awesome. My name’s Nel by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Nel. I’m Martha.”
Nelly tried not to smirk. Martha noticed it anyway, and laughed herself. It sounded beautiful to Nelly.
“My folks are the good kind of old-fashioned,” she explained. “Hence the name. And this baby.” She patted the Chevy too, affectionately.
“I love it” said Nelly.
“You’re into old-timers, huh?”
“I am. It was a thing between my grandfather and me. I’d love to own a corvette myself one day. A bright yellow one.”
Martha nodded approvingly. She seemed at ease with driving in silence, so Nel tried to relax and focus on the car, instead of on how Martha’s freckles ran from her forehead all the way down the two open buttons of her plaid blouse. And further, probably. Her throat turned dry.
“Would you mind some music?” she asked. Martha said she didn’t.
There were unlabeled cassettes in the dashboard. Nelly put a random one in and pressed play. Pop music. Martha laughed again when she saw Nelly’s face. “What, did you expect Bluegrass?”
“Kinda”, Nelly admitted.
“Silly city girl”, Martha said, with a wink. Nelly would think of that wink as the moment she fell in love.
They neared the intersection to the town. “I’ll drop you at the nearest mechanic, they can go pick up your car.”
Nelly nodded. She fell her heart sink, desperately looking for something to say. “Are you in a hurry?” she blurted out, and hated herself immediately. Silly city girl.
Martha looked at her funnily. Surprised? Amused? Pitying? “I mean…”, Nelly stammered, “I don’t know anyone here in this town. I know a bit about cars and I don’t think they manage to fix such an old model straight away, so…”
Martha interrupted her. “I’m pretty pressed, yeah. If not I’d have returned myself to pull your mustang in.”
“Oh. Ok. Sorry, I didn’t want to sound ungrateful.” She smiled sadly. “I just… I dunno, it was really nice to meet you. I’d love to get to know you better.”
That mysterious expression again. “You know what? I work in the next town, about half an hour from here. I can pass by around seven and check in on you, and maybe we can grab a bite together?”
“That’d be awesome.”
Martha dropped her at the mechanic and waved lazily while driving away. It turned out the mechanic was actually well equipped for older models, and the problem was easily fixed. Martha spent the afternoon dozing in the sun on her engine cover on a deserted parking, dreaming of serendipity and second chances. Of butterflies and happy endings.
She waited till seven. She waited till the sun went down. She waited till she knew Martha wouldn’t come back. Then she went to the motel the mechanic had shown her. She barely slept. Thinking of life and fate, of regrets and sad memories.
The next day, she got out early, eager to be on the road again, away from this place. Her grandpa’s old mustang handled like a charm, and soon she’d have forgotten about the whole thing. Then she passed the next town. On a parking lot next to the tanking station, she saw a glimpse of an old rust-coloured Chevrolet truck.
For a moment, Nelly kept driving, lost between new regrets and happy endings. But then she slowed down and turned around. She’d put her faith in serendipity and second chances, and she wasn’t planning to give up just yet. Happiness was hers to be found and claimed again, just behind the horizon. “Silly city girl”, she smiled, and drove up the parking lot.