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An open letter to RAHS students, from your cars

By Phoenix Flyer

Dear RAHS Students,

Thanks bruh. We’ve had some real good times in our days. I remember the day your parents and you strolled onto the lot of used cars back when you turned sixteen. You were so young then. Your pubescent scar-covered face beamed at the thought of your first set of wheels. I, myself, worried that day. I was afraid, that in your youth, you would strive for safety, follow the rules freshly taught to you in drivers ed.

Luckily, I was wrong.

From the first day you slid into my front seat, sliding yourself forward, adjusting your mirrors to never be checked again, I knew it was love. I’ll never forget the first time we pulled up to the stoplight outside your neighborhood, us two in the front of the queue. Your heart raced as adrenaline rushed through your veins, your mind deviously plotting the events that were about to unravel. That road still bears the scar of my tires, rubber charred into the pavement as a permanent reminder of the speed we achieved together.

Ah, the fun we’ve had. Remember all the donuts we did in the gravel lot behind your school? The circles we left became puddles after the first rain. From time to time, gravel still falls out of my undercarriage. The parking lot looked like an alien abduction took place from the crop-circle-type marks we left.

What was the name of that girl you took out a while ago? Oh, it doesn’t matter. It just makes me so happy every time you fog my windows up, it really gets my gears spinning. I think her coat is still in my backseat. Or maybe it was someone else’s.

Do you remember the time you fit eight people into my cramped four seats? We went out to McDonald’s and packed the remaining space with McChickens, fries, and Big Macs. I’m pretty sure we hold the land-speed record on East Marginal Way. No one else could make it to Matt’s Hot Dogs and back in the first fifteen minutes of lunch. But we did.

We’ve been through hell and back together. There was the time you had to drive all the way home with my gas light on. The entire way. Your mom was so disappointed with you, she almost didn’t even give you the cash to go fill me up. I can get 25 miles to the gallon, but 128 mph is anything but economy driving. Too bad your friend’s car can get 132.

And don’t forget the time you got a flat tire in the middle of the boons on your way back from Eastern Washington. It took an hour for AAA to get there and I thought we wouldn’t make it back at all. It’s a shame you don’t know how to change a tire.

The combination of burn-outs and tire lock-ups have left my tire tread at 20%. Our check engine light has been on since last June. Maybe January. Mmm, I love it when you put the chains on me and haul me up the mountain.

My dear friend, don’t lose heart. I know that at times, you’ve hit my wheel in fury over the imbeciles around you. Those clueless parents at your school who make U-turns at the end of the drive, what audacity they have to block the precious space you use for your daily morning drifting track. To think, some people would SLOW DOWN for those new speed bumps. I mean, it’s like they’re asking for you to give them the bird and honk your horn!

The poor soul who last dared to take your parking spot out by the front won’t ever forget our vengeance. We scraped his parking sticker off and called a tow-truck on the scrub. That’ll show him, right?

Every afternoon on our way home, we’d pass that funny looking old geography teacher who scowls at us for driving too fast. I’m sorry you got detention that one time because we went too fast. And have we ever cared about that “No Turn on Red” sign? Of course we haven’t!

Before I bid you farewell, a word of caution. I know we’ve both seen the monstrosities and hulks at the junkyard next to your school. While we have our fun, I dearly hope that you will take it carefully in the future.

I’m kidding! We’ll never be anything like them! If I end up there, it’ll be because we were drifting and rolled, complete with explosions that would give Michael Bay wet dreams. Keep up the good work, my friend. You still have to meet your quota of running red lights for this month.

Until the next time we hit the road.

With love and the sharp smell of gasoline,

Your Cars

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