Chapter 80

The utter fascination and magnificence that assails me at the sight of his car can't be put into words. At first it was a Bugatti with Eras, but now with this seemingly strange guy it's a Lamborghini.

I can't say I don't really know much about cars now, because it seems I have inherited that gene from the man who was once my father. I'm guessing he still is, even though he's dead, and he's really the only father I'll ever have.

But yet the size of this car seems to bring back warm memories. It brings back a memory of me and my father scrolling through pages of magazines, to see which luxury car was in vogue at that time of year.

It seemed father always had a fascination with cars, and the way they were built, from the way they assemble them, to the coupling, and then the shipping, it seems he loved each and every part of it.

I think I've inherited that particular penchant from him, as I would find myself on bored days sneaking into his rooms, to go get his magazines he always seemed to have of luxury cars. He had magazines that would make you feel like you were a sports car driver, taking one of these beautiful cards for a test run.

It seems he even had a whole subscription for them, as every new month they always seemed to arrive unbidden.

This got mom really fustrated at the way her house was turning into a bookstore, and she always told father to go get himself a car as a wife, instead of littering the house in a whole pile of them, and making her waste time cleaning everything up.

We always seem to laugh It off, but now that they are gone, I still find myself looking at those magazines that my father and I had scanned through together. It seems, it's making makes me connected with him in a weird notion, and I think that's why I do it.

I do it to keep his memory alive, the memory of the pleasant laughter and interest that would come, whenever we decided to go on one of our crazy adventures to go scan the web for the most expensive cars.

I think father would actually have bought it if not for mum. He had enough money to, and it seems he really really wanted to, but my mother was an economist.

She just couldn't find the sense in buying a car worth millions of Dollars, when you can buy one worth less than a hundred thousand dollars and they would still move on the same road.

She said it was total foolishness that some people seemed to spend so much on cars, and I can't seem to see her sense of reasoning.

If not for my aunt restricting access to our fortunes, I'm sure I would have spent at least a total buttload of mine purchasing each and every new luxury car I could get my hands on.

The way clay leans over his car in a sort of nonchalant manner, as he picks through a bunch of keys makes me feel angry. Well not angry that in that sense, but angry in the sense that he shouldn't also own one of my favourite cars. It's unfair. Its lile the universe is forcing me to like him, and I don't want to.