I followed Anna to the end of the hallway where she abruptly stopped and looked down the stairs.

“Papa,” she said as I caught up with her and caught the eye of her dad. He was a young-ish looking man with bright red hair and a mustache that looked like it could take Charles Bronson down a peg or two,

“Anna,” he replied with a stoic look on his face that at once broke into a wide smile and turned to me. “And you must be Gregory?”
“Yes sir.”

“Come on down, the both of you. It seems we have a bit to ponder.”

Anna took my hand, and we walked down the steps then turned into the living room. The room had once again changed. Bathed in bright shades of red with more bookshelves and paintings on the wall. There was one painting that caught my eye. It was a picture of him in front of an old airplane.

“So, Wendy has informed us—”

“Of too much, too little,” Anna commented.

“Wendy has informed us your car has been stolen from you.”

Mr. Joel stepped to the side as Anna led us to a black leather couch. I did not recall seeing it earlier. I tried to hold my astonishment back, lest I ask a question that would make me question my sanity.

“Yeah, by a guy named Mick.”

Mr. Joel sighed as I said Mick’s name.

“Such an offensive name…but it appears he matches the dour meaning of that word.”

“His real name is Mike.”

Mr. Joel and looked to Mrs. Joel. “Are you up for a quick jaunt to town, my dear?”

Mrs. Joel smiled and nodded as Mr. Joel walked to the door. She joined him along with Wendy.

“I love getting to meet the local folk.”

Anna hoisted me back up; our hands never separated after walking down the stairs.

It was now our turn to the walk to the door.

“Mom’s car is a little loud compared to mine.”

We walked onto the porch and Anna closed the door. I turned to the driveway to see a black car, straight out of a Dick Tracy comic, sitting before us.

“You may want to hold your ears,” Anna whispered.

I slowly cupped my hands over my hands as Mr. Joel turned the key and the car started with a rumble and a roar before lowering to a quieter decibel.

I climbed into the back, sitting between Wendy and Anna.

Anna closed the door as Mr. Joel revved the engine and shifted into reverse.

The car backed onto the road and came to a calm stop. Then, Mr. Joel floored the accelerator, and we were driving down the road faster than I had ever driven. It almost felt we were going to take off at any second. The end of the street approached and Mr. Joel showed no intention of slowing down.

I gripped Anna’s hand tighter as I envisioned us either t-boning another car or driving into the house that sat on the other side of the road.

I closed my eyes and thought about all the thing I was never going to get to do: Live to see Mick go to jail on a plethora of charges; asking Anna to Prom; marrying Anna and building a house somewhere in the northwest. I opened my eyes and realized we were now on the main road. Either
I had fainted or something else happened. Anna only smiled.

We arrived at the auto yard with the gate closed, a rusty “closed” sign barely hanging onto the meta and a large lock on an ever-larger chian.
My heart sunk a little bit as I couldn’t see my car. I had to wonder if the owner had made it his personal mission to crush it shortly after we left earlier.

Mr. Joel stepped out of the car and turned to Mrs. Joel.

“I’ll see if the proprietor is able to come out and speak to us.”

Mrs. Joel as her husband walked to the gate and called out. “Good evening, sir? May we speak to you please?”

The owner, all three hundred or so pounds of himself, slowly walked up to the fence and spat out some brown liquid.

“Closed, Can’t you read the sign?”

“There is no sign, my good sir,” Mr. Joel said.

I looked to where the sign was and it was gone.

“You see the closed fence? It means we’re closed!”

“So, if this fence was indeed, open, then your business would be so, likewise?”

“Do you have a hearing problem?” The man barked as he spat out another mouthful of brown-tinted spit.

“No, sir. I am simply listening to your terms.”

“Gates closed. Go away!” The lot owner yelled as he turned and sauntered off.

Mr. Joel walked to the middle of the gate. “Then you must be opened,”

Mr. Joel pushed the gate open, causing Mr. Copenhagen to turn around, a surprised look on his face.

Mr. Joel walked past the gates and stopped a few few shy of the startled man.

“We’re looking for a small car from Germany. Perhaps, you have one.”

“Yeah…yeah, I have one.”

“Young Mr. Robison!” Anna’s dad called.

Anna dragged me into the lot, and we stood next to her father,

“Yes sir?”

“Do you see your car?”

I looked around the lot, my thoughts once again on the negative side as the car was most likely in little pieces.

“There it is,” Anna pointed.

I ran to the car but then remembered the key didn’t work earlier.

“It’s unlocked,” Anna noted from the other side.

We climbed in and I took a deep breath as I placed the key into the ignition, pushed down on the clutch, then the brake, and prayed the engine would start.

The starter whined for a few seconds before the engine rumbled and roared to life; louder than ever before.