The Passat | Teen Ink

The Passat

October 30, 2007
By Anonymous

It had been his, not by choice but rather opportunity. As dully uninterested in it he was, almost as uninterested as it was in him, they began to grow on each other. Through Heaven and Hell it was always a constant in his life. As he stood on the side of the highway in the pouring rain, as it futilely attempted to put out the blaze that was engulfing what was, for the briefest of lifetimes, one of the very few constants in his life.

“If you get into an accident in this and it’s your fault, I hope to God that it kills you because I will when I get to you”. “Yeah yeah thanks dad, Im glad to hear you’re so happy I got my license.” He shrugged the sarcasm off as he finally held on to the pinnacle of high school freedom; the keys. Although skeptical at first, he finally set foot in its pearl white beauty. It was in good condition for a seven year old car. The interior still held up well, the black cloth showing little wear and tear, with the dashboards and windows polished to perfection. Finally gunning the engine and rolling it around his neighborhood, as powerful as it looked it moved with ease, graceful but intimidating. “Word, I’m finally behind the wheel” He breathed to himself in earnest, and excitement.
“You get why this happened right?” A rather angry looking police man stared him down, looking thoroughly uncomfortable in a uniform that was much too tight for him and dragged him down in the pouring rain. “I…I…don’t know, I was just trying to merge and I guess…I guess…I just didn’t look and got slammed.” He stammered in fear and shock. “Boy you better kiss that car good bye; it would take a miracle to get that back in one piece.” He had barely finished the sentence when a loud BOOM echoed across the parkway, and cringing, he ducked quickly as debris spread across the right lane.

The car slowly became his. He had replaced the rims and bought brand new ones. He vacuumed and cleaned the car meticulously, on a bi-weekly basis. It even began to take on his scent. Not the cologne before a date scent but his scent; Coffee, deodorant, and power. It felt right. It certainly wasn’t a BMW but it felt more then that. On the road, he felt like he could take on anybody. “Screw the speed limit.” he thought, and most people whom he drove would frequently cringe at his reckless abandon when driving. He was never worried; the car always seemed to take care of him, point him in the right direction, keep other drivers away from him and always took him where he needed to be even if in a roundabout fashion.

“You are an idiot!” He screamed at him in the pouring rain as the fire was finally put out. “Christ, enough! I do not need this right now”. He was numb, cold and emotionless and a tow truck finally began to pull away the smoldering remains of what he lovingly referred to as “his baby”. It was a worse feeling then when she had broken up with him. It hurt more…girls were replaceable, and then again so were cars but this was different.

Everything that was directly related to being a teenager happened to him in that car. He had his first beer in that car, lounging with his neighbor before he left for college. He had taken full advantage of the full seat recline and the sun roof with a girl to very good results. He was pulled over by cops in that car, bawled his eyes out in that car, screamed in that car and had laughed in that car, and as he figured probably would have ended up dying in that car. It was all over now... all those memories. All those memories, now in the ground, encased with a very real sense of finality.

He watched them rip the car apart at the junkyard. It was beyond saving. Piece by piece it was ripped apart. He never had the chance to empty it, everything that was in that car died there, although he did not, a part of him felt like he did. He would have given anything to get that car back. He spent days after the accident driving his parents Jeep but it felt wrong. It didn’t respond to him, it was rough, it was old, it was trashy; it just plain out was not the same.

A month later he finished taping up the last of his boxes for college. He tried not to think about the Passat anymore, it was gone and he had to forget. “Yo get down here bro.” His brother yelled to him. “All right I’m coming.” He shot back down. He walked down the stairs and was led outside. “I went to the junk yard the day after your car was taken apart.” His dad said. “I know that you are leaving next week and you do need a vehicle to get down there.” He continued. “Yeah but dad I don’t want another car, I was good, I don’t know….” He mumbled. “Here, just look all right.” He father pointed outside. Outside in the driveway was a jet black Audi A6. “I know what you are thinking but this is a bit more then just an average car.” Oscar continued. “Look inside.” He opened the front door. “You know that a Volkswagen and an Audi are under the same manufacturer right?” Oscar asked “yeah, straight up.” He replied. “Well, when I went to the junkyard, I grabbed a part, or two and talked to one of the workers at the Audi dealer, and well….take a look under the hood and you will see.” Under the hood, there it was. The heart of what used to be. The engine of the Passat had been restored and was now holding up residence in the Audi. In awe, he shut the hood, got in the car, started the ignition, and gunned the engine as he peeled off down the driveway. For an Audi, it really had the feeling of his past, it drove like him, it felt like him, it was as if a good friend had finally came back. He did not have to fit the car, finally the car fit him.

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