Riding in Cars by Myself
-This is dedicated to my 11th grade English teacher, who gave me a 50/50 on my English essay so I would have a chance at a B for a final grade. The fluorescent lights were flickering as Michael was finally sitting down after an 8 hour late night shift at the local Waffle House on a cool and foggy Sunday morning. He wiped the sweat from his brow realizing how much he reeked of cigarette smoke and waffle batter and realized he didn’t even have the energy to be glad he was finally going home. He called his mother for a ride for one of the last times. The attitude he gave off over the phone wasn’t because he didn’t appreciate his mother waking up early in the morning to come pick him up, nor was it because he had been up for the past 24 hours. It was because he couldn’t drive himself home. He had been in possession of his license for the past few months but never had the chance to use it as he lacked a car, the ultimate symbol of teenage independence. For the past 16 years of his life he had relied on his mom for everything. Well, Michael thought it was time to change that. He had been pestering his friend, Norman, to put in a good word for him at the Rolla Waffle House. By some miracle of God he landed the job after submitting countless applications to business all around Rolla. The job wasn’t exactly what someone would call fun and Michael felt it would be quite a stretch to say it was even tolerable, but he pushed past it, knowing that it would ultimately lead to his independence in the form of a car. He didn’t have a particular car in mind, although it couldn’t be your typical beater Honda or Buick. He wanted something a little more high-profile. An older man named Stuart, who Michael only knew through his family, had agreed to take on the task of trying to find something that would suit his needs. Stuart knew his cars and worked part-time fixing up cars and reselling them. Michael knew of his background and was confident he wouldn’t...
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