Student Driver

slapdashmonuments

Inspiration hits with a flash, stories written on the go. A rumble of laughter and the tale is heard only in echoes. The wind blows me in a new direction. Whom shall I visit next?


Sylvester was learning to drive his brand new Model T Ford. His brother in law Harwell was in the passenger's seat, playing tutor, as he had already had his T for months and knew how to work it.

"This pedal, here, Sylvie," Harwell pointed, "is called the accelerator. It lets the gasoline into the engine, so the auto will begin moving." He waited, and then chuckled. "Uh, you have to release the emergency brake first, though." Soon the T was up and running down the high road. The nervous driver started to relax.

"Well, Harwell, you've got my thanks. I've been looking forward to this all year. I never thought I could really do it. Sure was worth all the saving and scrimping I've been doing. Now, as I suppose," he said, glancing at Harwell, fast approaching a sharp bend in the road," that this pedal here controls the speed, the, what is it, the clutch?"

"Naw, Sylvie," scoffed Harwell, as the Model T smashed into a stone wall, sending chickens fluttering everywhere and ruining the vehicle, "them's the brakes."


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Comments (2 so far!)

Average reader rating 4.00/5

Anorak

Anorak

Ha! When I'm not writing fiction I write historical anecdotes about the town I live in, stuff I've researched or that old timers share with me, the sort of stories that you would tell sitting on the front porch with a glass of tea. This reads just like that :)

  • #1210 Posted 3 years ago
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  • 4 out of 5
slapdashmonuments

slapdashmonuments

I'm reading a book of fifty American short stories and the tone is a sort of Susan Glaspell feel mixed with one of those old stories, the title of which I can't recall. Most of what I write is wordplay, at least at some level, and this grew from the punchline.

  • #1213 Posted 3 years ago
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