Wondering Why ~ [ INCOMPLETE ]

01 - Friend

Catalina -€

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I was already having a surprising weekend, but I was certainly not expecting a call from my photography professor. Least of all for said call to be a free ticket to America for an assignment.

Let me fill you in on this. My photography class has maybe five other people in it. We each got different subjects to make an album for a project; Western, Eastern, Religion, Tradition, Romance.

Each of us randomly drew a theme. Depending on which one we got, our professor gave us free tickets or passes to get to places we could take photos. For me, she got me a plane ticket to God's country; North America. specifically, Kansas.

It's for a flight in two days, so I go ahead and pack some stuff tonight. I jog down the two flights of stairs from my bedroom to the living floor, to find my father half passed out on the couch with a tired look on his face. "Papa?" I Set my Hand on his shoulder as I stand infront of him.

"Hm..?"

"I am going on vacation to America with some friends on Monday. Will you tell Mother when she gets home?"

"Ofcourse, darling."

"Thank you, papa." I gently kiss the top of his head, glancing worriedly at him before heading back up the steps. My mother and father being together was an arranged marriage. My dad being from America, my mom local from France. She is controlling and aggressive and I feel bad for leaving my dad to deal with her alone.

Nonetheless, I am glad to get out. I'm thirty. My mother never let me move out, complaining how this house has been in the family for generations, and I was to own it next. But I didn't want to. I was tired of waking up to the same three story house, the same cluttered view, I was over it.

That's why I was absolutely ecstatic when my professor said I was going to America. With the Western lifestyle as the theme for my project album, I was bound to see so many beautiful scenes. 

It was a little complicated to sleep that night, but I got there nonetheless.

~ Day of Arrival; Monday ~

I didn't even bother to look for a place to stay before I got here. This was a bad idea, as now I am sitting on a bench in some sort of a local Park, still searching online.

I find a sort of bed and breakfast Motel deal, about a ten minute drive out of town. My parents had my car delivered here before I got here, somehow. My modded Porsche 911 was vividly out of place with all of the pickup trucks and old Rusty cars.

As I drive to this motel, I can't help but let the beautiful countryside relax my nerves.

I pull onto the long dirt path up to the motel and park in the lot beside a pair of Jeep wranglers to my right, and a dodge ram to my left.

I step out of my car, a little overwhelmed by the size of the truck. Wide trailer mirrors, a giant grille guard with a 'RanchHand' engraving on each side, the bed long with a large steel tool box and an electric cover over the rest, the sides of the bed expanded into large, smooth fenders to cover the wide dual tires.

Despite the entire truck being white, it was intimidating. Well, it wasn't necessarily white. It seemed like it was meant to be, but covered with splattered red dirt and mud. The body being that white, everything else was blacked out. The grille, the grille guard, headlights and tail lights, rims, and a dark window tint. But the trailer mirrors were color matched to the truck itself.

The light bar on top was color matched aswell. I couldn't deny that the whole vehicle was gorgeous, even if the step up into the cab was at my stomach.