You’ll probably think me odd when I say my car was jinxed. I swear it was. It attracted vandals and dodgy road users. My kids are normally well behaved, but not in the car. I envied parents whose children simply asked if they were there yet.
My wife Martha and I had a bad marriage. We clung on for the children’s sakes. But one afternoon in a supermarket car park we had the most awful row. Terrible it was. The car’s fault, of course, it always was.
I’d had enough. The next day I drove to the forest, shoved the lever into reverse and drove full pelt backwards into a tree crushing the boot. It took me a few minutes to recover as I sat dazed amid the inflated airbags.
I’m no longer with Martha. Just me and the little ones now. People ask where she went. I say I don’t know. As far a the cops are concerned its just another closed missing persons case.
The scrapyard’s an odd place. Like a cemetery of busted, unwanted and unloved worldly goods. Everything from washing machines to motor vehicles. There’s my wretched car, up there where it belongs. The red one with the crushed boot.
Rest in peace Martha.
Thanks to Donna for hosting. The photo is from Morguefile