[ Bob swears he knows how to drive. Just like every 16 year old in America, getting ones driver's license was a right of passage. Granted he'd had to try several times before he had finally passed (it's difficult when your parents won't really let you use their car and your own internal dialogue insisted that you were only going to fail so what was the point?) but the point is that he had passed. That was how the saying went, right?
So then why, may you ask, is he currently careening down the road like a mad man with an absolute disgusting disregard for anyone else's safety including his own? It is not because he has forgotten how to drive. Nor is it because he hasn't technically owned a car in a very, very long time. The last car he'd owned had been stolen along with the majority of his meager belongings. And while it was a shitty car and he was overdue for some new clothes, it had still been his and a staggering blow to what very little self-esteem he already had going for him. He hadn't bothered to try and own a car since then - mostly because he had fallen on other hard times and well. There were some habits that had demanded sinking his money elsewhere.
It's a wonder he's made it this far in life, really.
But that still brings us to now. Why is Bob racing down a road and yelling rather apologetically at the guy on the bike even though there's no way in hell he'd heard him? Because the universe dictates that his brakes should go out right at this very moment. Thank god John has a bike and this road is flat. (For now.) The aggressive slamming against the window shocks him and the van jerks to the left - towards his friend - before quickly righting itself. ]
Walker?
[ His wide-eyed gaze darts from the road to the man who's keeping up pace with him and somehow, someway, he manages to crank the window down so John can actually hear him. Except in his panic he cranks the window handle a little too hard and it breaks off. Ah well. His yelling will be loud enough. ]
BEEP BEEP OUTTA THE WAY
So then why, may you ask, is he currently careening down the road like a mad man with an absolute disgusting disregard for anyone else's safety including his own? It is not because he has forgotten how to drive. Nor is it because he hasn't technically owned a car in a very, very long time. The last car he'd owned had been stolen along with the majority of his meager belongings. And while it was a shitty car and he was overdue for some new clothes, it had still been his and a staggering blow to what very little self-esteem he already had going for him. He hadn't bothered to try and own a car since then - mostly because he had fallen on other hard times and well. There were some habits that had demanded sinking his money elsewhere.
It's a wonder he's made it this far in life, really.
But that still brings us to now. Why is Bob racing down a road and yelling rather apologetically at the guy on the bike even though there's no way in hell he'd heard him? Because the universe dictates that his brakes should go out right at this very moment. Thank god John has a bike and this road is flat. (For now.) The aggressive slamming against the window shocks him and the van jerks to the left - towards his friend - before quickly righting itself. ]
Walker?
[ His wide-eyed gaze darts from the road to the man who's keeping up pace with him and somehow, someway, he manages to crank the window down so John can actually hear him. Except in his panic he cranks the window handle a little too hard and it breaks off. Ah well. His yelling will be loud enough. ]
I can't! My breaks broke!