The Little House of Paints

Chapter 9

Today, I'm speeding off to the airport bright and early to pick up Dad. Though I thought that he was going to be gone a lot longer, I'm actually happy to have him back. Being in the house alone seems like fun until every single noise you hear makes you think someone is trying to break in and kill you. It also doesn't actually help that there is an actual killer out on the loose.

I decided to listen to a podcast on the way. Music tends to wake me up alot more, but listening to a podcast is a lot more calming for me, which I need while driving into the city with people driving like major idiots.

I tend to stick to a lot of true crime podcasts, which once again reinforces my fears of the human population. If there is one thing that I have learned is, "Sometimes the monsters are really humans, hiding behind a mask of normalcy." Dale Greyson said that once during one of his podcasts detailing the murders of Ted Bundy and it has stuck with me ever since.

Speaking of Dale Greyson, that is who I'm listening to this morning. Though his podcast, Knife in the Back, only has a small following, it is one of my favorites. He used to, like many of the other true crime podcasts out there, focus a lot more on the big headlined criminals. However, he now talks exclusively about the lesser known criminals. With his lack of censoring and overabundance of detail, Knife in the Back is not a podcast for the faint of heart.

Though I love my Bronco, it is definitely not suited up with any of today's modern technology. It has pretty much the bare bones. Heat, AC, and a radio. The radio had to be replaced a couple years ago, so at least that is modern. However it's got nothing else including no navigation, which has proven difficult at times for my directionally challenged self. However, what it lacks in today's comforts, it makes up for in appearance. The original tan leather interior complements the Bold Orange paint color perfectly.

Though it was a hard pill to swallow for my high school self, I eventually fell in love with the car. That being said, to safely listen to my podcast I either have to put in headphones or plug my phone into the car because there is no other way that I will hear it over the obnoxious honks of my fellow drivers.

After almost two complete podcasts and a whole lot of traffic, I finally pulled up to the airport. I call my dad's phone to tell him that I am here, hanging up after two rings. Whenever either of us is picking up the other one we always just call so that the phone rings, but never actually let the other pick up. It's a lot more alerting than a simple ding of a text, though I don't know why we never pick it up. Probably because we will be talking to each other in a few minutes anyway.

Ten minutes pass before I see the familiar flannel shirt attire. I know it is him because this flannel is not like any other. No, no, this one is sporting a lot of different designs that I decided to paint onto it when I was about ten. Instead of yelling at me for ruining one of his shirts, it became his favorite and now by default has become his airport shirt. Though by some miracle I have gotten him to stop telling everyone about it whenever anyone comments on it. Now, when people say anything about it, he just says it was a gift.

After a second or two of looking around he finally spots my car. That is one advantage of having a bright color in a sea of black, white, silver, and other neutrals. You stand out. No matter how hard you try, no matter how far you park in the darkest corner of the parking garage your car still lights up the room like your neighbor's Christmas lights that are still up in February.

I get out of the car, bringing the keys with me since another beauty of having an older car is the fact that you do not have an automatic trunk. Rounding, I arrive at the same time that my father gets there, almost as if we have timed it. I go to put the key into the lock, when my actions are stopped by a hug. To be honest I'm no hugger, but after being half scared to death at night for almost a week straight, it is nice to feel warm and protected.