Game Theory × NH

069 | thulium

× Horan

"This is my most prized possession," Lynn said, her arms outstretch to their full length.

I looked at the piece of junk in front of me. It was a yellow 1978 Wrangler Jeep and it was the most hideous thing I had ever seen. The exterior was clean and shiny; the black tarp was intact for the most part, except for a few wear and tears here and there. But it was so retro looking that it was just hard to gaze at without cringing.

"It was my dad's before he got his Dodge Durango," she continued as she ran her hand along the hood of the Jeep. "He gave it to me when I got my license when I was sixteen. I fell in love with it, even more now that he's gone."

I wanted to ask where her dad's Durango went, but I decided that wasn't very important at the moment.

"Is it even safe to drive?" I asked, stepping to the side and eyeing the rusted patches at the bottom edges. "It looks like a death trap."

"Perfectly safe," she confirmed, but from the way she was looking at me wasn't all that reassuring. "Been driving it for years. Hop in while I grab my surfboard."

I went to the passenger side door and opened it. I paused in place and eyed the car, a little confused, only to remember that I wasn't in London anymore and that the steering wheel on the opposite side of the car was completely normal.

From the other side of the garage, Lynn laughed. "The passenger seat is on the other side," she said with a stupid grin on her face. Then in a lower, mocking voice she added, "You're in California now. Things are different here."

She was quoting me from when I picked her up at the airport when she first arrived to London. She had done the same thing as I just did, and it kind of surprised me that she even remembered that. Then it surprised me even more that I remembered that.

I ignored her comment and walked to the other side and climbed in. The first thing I saw was the stick shift and my nerves heightened. Not only was this car old as dirt, but Lynn was going to be driving a stick shift? I should just do my prayers now.

The interior was shockingly nice, obviously updated for the times. The seats were a light gray fabric and the middle counsel was a black plastic. Out of curiosity, I opened the lid of the counsel and peeked inside as Lynn continued to gather her things and put it in the trunk. I saw old gum wrappers, a hand mirror, a dozen pens, mints, about five dollars in change, old movie tickets, and outdated melted chocolate kisses.

"Look out," Lynn said just as something large and white shoved through between the seats. It took me a second to realize it was a surfboard.

During breakfast that morning Lynn announced that she was going to the beach to meet up with her friends and that I didn't have a choice but to tag along. It was either that or stay inside all day with Lynn's grandma and risk her giving me another palm reading. I could explore the city on my own, but I actually kind of wanted to see the beach, and what better time to do that when Lynn was going to be wearing a swimsuit.

Lynn hopped into the driver seat and started the ignition. It took a couple of tries for it to stick, but Lynn didn't seem too worried about it. "It's been a long time since anyone drove it," she explained.

It made sense, but I still wasn't too happy that we were taking this shitty car when there was a perfectly good red PT Cruiser in the driveway.

Then we were on our way. I watched Lynn as she drove, making sure she was doing everything she was supposed to. Having Lynn be reckless on top of everything else was just going to send my anxieties over the edge.