When they returned to the fly-by-night lot from taking a test drive the maestro of secondhand cars said animatedly, "Most the new shiny metal boxes are just a bunch of junk. Don't make 'em like this anymore. Short wheelbase with narrow tires that can outclimb a mountain goat. Easy on petrol. Cheap. Old Yeller's a triple threat!" He took the last swig from his coffee cup, turned it upside down, spun it counter clockwise three times, popped the lid, and consulted with the grounds. "It's your lucky day! Step into my office."
"I love your house." Janaki ascended red carpeted steps to an asphalt crushing vintage travel trailer with rounded corners like a loaf of bread. A string of non offensive holiday lights dangled from the golden age beauty. The mobile mansion was crowded with championship belts and promotional photos from the wheeler dealer's career as a professional wrestler. After a pile of boilerplate easy payment contracts were signed the car guy's meaty fingers dropped a key into Janaki's hand. "Congratulations, kid! You just bought yourself a pole-to-pole view discoverer! It even has map pockets in the doors!"
The carefree motorist excitedly navigated the congested Tacoma streets through a forest of skyscrapers bathed in honey colored evening light. Janaki began to get comfortable, even loving how the air felt electrified in her canary-hued cruising vessel, but as she rolled the window down the handle broke off.
