1 Object Of My Affection. (1/2)

I found myself in a bit of a transitional phase after high school. Before school ended I was a model student. Made the grades, took the advanced classes, had a free ride wherever I wanted to go for college. I was on top of the world.

Somewhere between my last year of middle school and my last year of high school I managed to fuck it all up; however. I still made the grades, and still took the hard classes, but something broke. I couldn't tell you exactly where it started, or rather I don't care to try and figure out my feelings.

Either way when high school let out I found myself hesitating on my next step. I skipped a year of college mostly because I didn't know where I wanted to go. I wanted to work on cars, but all my family insisted I use these grades to aim higher. In the end they didn't know me half as well as they thought they did.

Here I was now with no job, not attending college, and with absolutely no idea where I was going. The perfect storm for a kid fresh outta high school to ruin his life. The perfect sequence of events to kick start a downward spiral. I fell victim to the trap so easily that now it makes me sick thinking about it.

The start of this whole unfortunate situation was around October. Possibly the first of the month, but I wasn't keeping very good track of time. I could tell you the air had changed from that hot oppressive atmosphere to that beautiful crisp smell that came with Fall. My second favorite season.

The chill wind made the wooden barn doors creak in the background. The damn near ancient structure groaned under the breeze. I sympathized with the poor thing.

My hands brushed delicately over the object of my affection. The barn housed the item that had been keeping my attention for years. A family heirloom passed from my grandfather. My mom and dad saw it as a chore more than anything, but to me it was a labor of love.

My hand came away with a thin film of dust from the faded red paint job on the car. A beautiful sixty-nine Mustang. Across both sides two black strips ran the length of the car. One line right under the window line, and the second at the bottom of the door. On the front quarter panels the words ”BOSS 302” sat emblazoned in the black.

All the paint had faded. Red chipped away on the roof, and a nasty rust spot sat on the left door. A massive eye sore to say the least. If the paint work wasn't bad enough the car didn't even run to begin with. The original motor still turned over, but the air intake needed work. On top of that the transmission wouldn't hold third gear.

Spare parts and wheels scattered the barn floor. Tools, nuts, and bolts littered shelves and tables. It was a mess in here all the time, and that was my fault. Just as messy as my room truth be told, and the barn was my second room.

I let my fingertips linger on the driver side door before pushing it closed. The solid sound of the door echoed through the empty roof of the barn. The grayed out wooden planks groaned the sound back at me dripping with apathy. Most things in my life now sat coated in a nice layer of nihilistic apathy.

Leaving the barn, I scooped my leather jacket off the trunk lid. The wind outside forced me to pull the jacket over my white tee as It was too thin to deal with the chill.

I secured the barn door and sloshed through the wet, dead, grass on my way back to my house. The storm door fluttered unlatched in the wind as it stepped up its assault. The sky was now grayed out and getting darker fast. We were safely out of tornado season now, but that wouldn't stop a hell of a storm from hitting us.

I took the steps to my house two at a time, and latched the storm door behind me firmly then closed the inner door. Now I could hear it howl. The wind was bellowing against the walls of my house. Loud enough for it to be an annoyance so I flipped the TV on. Just to some random channel to drown out the havoc outside.

I crossed my house and kicked the door to my room shut. My bed squeaked in protest when I flopped down, but the pleas went ignored. I snatched a book off my night stand and settled in just when my phone buzzed to life.

The left pocket in my jacket vibrated with a dull sound pulling me back to reality. I let out a deep sigh before attempting to look at it. A name flashed out at me in black against a white backdrop.

Johnny Daniels.

The best friend I had left after high school. Mostly because both of us became lazy bums right out of school. Him because his grades didn't make the cut. That never bothered Johnny. He didn't have academics, but if you asked him he would say he had something better on his side.