Breath of fresh air Janaki grew into a young woman. She searched on her phone through auto ad thumbnail photos, but was discouraged by the cost of new vehicles. Scrolling down further on her cracked screen she was still unable to afford any used ones. Below that was the "Rock Bottom Prices Section." As Janaki bargained with God, one listing caught her attention: Rare twenty-year-old classic! Low mileage 4WD with competition gold exterior!
"Four-Wheel Drive!" Janaki beamed.
Balloons, flags, and an inflatable dancing tube figure flailed through the air at the car dealership. Janaki noticed a tricked out monster truck with two-part clamshell doors and vinyl flame stickers. She asked the socks with sandals-wearing -- even though they are not safe to drive in, skullet sporting -- that's bald on top and a ponytail in back, salesman whose phone was blowing up if that was the one advertised on the website.
"The drive-a-saurus!" The barrel-chested deal maker with a cauliflower ear sipped from a takeaway hot cup. He clapped a hand on Janaki's shoulder and walked her away from the gas guzzling high-end dream machine having no business in commuter traffic with its bootleg steering wheel made of a chain, bumper sticker that read, "My other ride is your mom," truck nuts dangling from the trailer hitch, to the economical shoebox buggy. All of its extra enhancements had long been taken away, except for the remnant emblem letters spelling Ora.
