Oups ! Cette image n'est pas conforme à nos directives de contenu. Afin de continuer la publication, veuillez la retirer ou télécharger une autre image.
" all my friends know the low rider "
•••
May 24th, 1977
Two teenagers sat in the '65 Buick with the windows down and the stereo up.
"I can't believe you've got your own car!" The girl with the brown wavy hair yells over the music.
"I know it kicks ass!" The boy behind the drivers seat beams running his hands over the steering wheel.
She reaches over turning down the radio,
"Now when can it leave the shop?" She sits back into her seat. He flicks the keys in the ignition, turning off the parked vehicle.
"It should be ready for next weekend," he informs the girl.
"Good," She smiles tucking some hair behind her ear, "Your basement was starting to get kinda old."
"Having you and the guys there all the time is starting to get kinda old," he teases.
"Whatever, Price." She rolls her eyes crossing her arms over her chest,
"Wow my best friend has a car,"
"Indeed he does,"
"Even though it's about twelve years old," she laughs,
"Better than walking,"
"Much better."
"So uh, I've been meaning to talk to you." He shifts uncomfortably in his seat looking forward through the open garage door.
The girl grabs his wrist looking down at his watch,
"Shit! I've gotta be home for dinner can it wait?"
"Heh, I guess it can wait a little longer." He scratches the back of his neck glancing over at her.
"Sweet," She leans over kissing his cheek, "I'll be in your basement after dinner." She says sliding out of the car.
"Would you be anywhere else?" He leans out the window watching her walk down the driveway.
"See you at seven!" She calls out before jogging across the street towards her house.
The boy groans hitting his head against the steering wheel; there's always next time.
