Writing Prompt: Rusting In Peace

 Prompt: Write an obituary to a car.

Rusting In Peace

Michael’s beloved, red 2002 “pocket rocket” GTI Volkswagen passed away peacefully in front of the house one hot summer day about 6 years ago. Cause of death was most likely the battery coupled with the engine, which hadn’t been right ever since the car got stolen once and some joyriders inflicted damage before abandoning the car near Scioto Audubon Metropark where wife Melissa chanced to stumble upon it and quickly notified the authorities.

Obtained by Melissa for her husband during her first manic spending spree in the winter of 2001, Michael came home from work one night to find the red VW roadster in front of the house with a big red bow on it, courtesy of Byers Volkswagen on Hamilton Road. He fell in love with the car at first sight, sliding into the black leather driver’s seat, firing it up, and blaring the stereo. As they cruised around the beltway that night, laughing wildly like teenagers, everything felt so right. 

Unfortunately with the souped up car came the monthly car payment, which frugal Michael groused about but dutifully paid every month. Off he would go to his job up on Busch Boulevard, driving like a speed demon to and from work, his favorite part of the day. Michael would often get comments on his car wherever he went, the pocket rocket’s fire engine red exterior drew lots of attention. He kept the car spotless, it was his baby, and he only allowed Melissa to drive it on the rarest of occasions.

After the car theft in 2012 or so, and a sketchy mechanic in Whitehall brought the car’s engine back to life, the car’s AC eventually went out and Michael decided not to get it fixed. By that time, his office had relocated to space downtown, very close to home, and he only had a 5-minute commute to and from his work. By 2017, Michael had inherited his mother’s Honda CRV, and firmly in middle age, he parked his GTI in its current resting spot in front of the house and it hasn’t moved since.

Who’s to say when the red car finally gave up the ghost, but battered by the seasonal elements, not driven, now two tires are flat, and the exterior looks dirty and faded. Melissa started protesting in earnest earlier this year that the car should be donated to the local Classical music station for a tax write-off, but Michael insists he can sell the dead car to some obsessed vintage VW collector.

Meanwhile the pocket rocket sits, silently gathering dirt and now some rust, but gratefully never ticketed by the authorities for reasons unknown. Perhaps the neighbors have taken pity on Michael and Melissa and not reported the car, or perhaps Michael promised a passing cruiser that he would get the car running again and didn’t tell Melissa. 

Does Michael want to get rid of his little, red GTI? Most likely not. Melissa has temporarily stopped protesting, trying to let go and let a Higher Power orchestrate outcomes. So for now, it’s dear pocket rocket, rust in peace— at least until some lucky new owner tries to bring you back to life.