The Freedom I Carry | Teen Ink

The Freedom I Carry

October 14, 2021
By Anonymous

There it was on my grandma’s counter. Just sitting there looking at me like they knew the were going to be handed to me at any second. It was a special moment I will carry with me for a very long time. My first car, an 05 pt cruiser. My grandpa and I got it when I was in 7th grade and worked on it for 3 years before I turned 16 and was able to drive. I didn’t think it would’ve turned into this.
The keys are attached by a long black stretchy lanyard that says D.A.B. which stands for drugs are bad because drugs are bad for you. There’s also my airpod pros in a navy blue silicone case. My Ohio state house keys to remember which one is mine and which one is for my grandma's house because hers is plain silver. Another thing that’s on there is a black programmer so I can unlock it from far away has an unlock, lock, panic button, and a button to open the trunk of my car
The house was old with a big garage in the back filled with car parts, motorcycles, and big machinery. The air was thick like smoke, smelling like metal chippings and greasy walls. I had grown up in that garage just watching my grandpa fix up cars and work on his motorcycles like he normally did. Just him and I all those years working together and learning everything about cars and bikes. In the back was full of rusty screws and slashed tires, under the big blue tarp was a blue and silver rusted car that looked like it had been sitting for many years. Chunky thick green moss covered the black convertible top, orange and brown rust had eaten the frame and the wheels of the car.
He was an older guy that wore heavy polo cologne, had shaggy, combed back, white hair, with piercingly bright blue eyes. His name was Tim, he’d been in my life since the day I opened my eyes. My best friend since the beginning of my life, the person I looked up to since I was a little girl. I’d always follow him everywhere no matter where he went, up north to their cottage, outside doing yard work, or just sitting by him having a conversation while he worked on his motorcycles.
I know it always isn’t easy talking about people you’ve lost, but it’s always nice remembering those little memories that you guys had together, just the two of you. It helps me remember how much you can truly care for someone. I still remember the day he bought me that car. His smile stretched from ear to ear, he’d waited for that moment ever since I was a little girl. He was the one that believed in me all those years. He was my best friend.

Similar Articles


This article has 0 comments.