“It’s hard giving up a car you love, but you have to, sometimes,” Barb, Jane’s sister, said. “Hopefully your car went to a good home.”
“I hope so. Apart from that one dent on the fender, it looked pretty good. I thought it would be a nice car for a teenage boy to get to fix up.”
Chad, Barb’s thirteen year-old-son, came into the living room and turned on the TV. His favorite show was on. It was a cop show, which appeared to feature an endless parade of car chase scenes.
“Hey! Aunt Jane! Isn’t that your car?” Chad said, pointing at the TV.
“It looks similar,” Jane stared. “It is my car! It’s got the same dent!”
“Cool! Your car is on TV!”
Jane’s old car was currently racing down a twisting mountain highway, with a police car in hot pursuit. Suddenly, it skidded off a curve. It crashed through a guard rail and went down a steep hill, flipping three times before it landed on the bottom. The driver crawled out the window and began running away—just in time to avoid a violent explosion, as the car burst into a mountain of flames.
“Wow!” Chad yelled.
“My car,” Jane moaned. Then, she began crying.