hello everyone, I'm rewriting this because there are people who actually enjoy this and it's not fair that it's poorly written and also the writing style is embarrassing. So... readers of new and old, get ready for the tedious process of waiting for me to update all over again >:)
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On the day (Y/N) was meant to purchase her first car, school seemed to drag on agonizingly slow. Even in the last few minutes of the day, her history professor made a boy get up to do his presentation on his family genealogy. (Y/N) was certain it was about the most boring thing she was ever subjected to sit through. All throughout the boy's lecture, he tried to pawn his dead grandfather's belongings off to his fellow students.
(Y/N) knew Sam from elementary school, when everyone was still friends with everyone else. However, sometime between fifth and sixth grade, something shifted, and (Y/N) went with her own crowd, and he went with his. Although, she wasn't really sure if he had a crowd, anymore. He was always by himself. However, she thought it was because of the little stunts like the presentation that he had a bad habit of pulling.
Finally, the bell rang, and before Sam could finish, (Y/N) and the other students rose from their seats. The teacher was saying something about a quiz, but (Y/N) paid no attention. She hurriedly packed up all of her things, imagining what sort of car she'd be driving to school with the next morning. If she played her cards right, perhaps she might end up with one of the coolest cars on campus.
Everything was just so close in her reach: her freedom, her power, her very first car! But then, Sam Witwicky fell in tow with her.
"Hey, (Y/N)!" He said. "What, uh, what'd you think of the presentation?"
(Y/N) frowned, adjusting her hold on her book bag as she left the classroom. "What're you doing?"
"Just... small talk. Hey, I was wondering. You know, I've got these super cool glasses—"
"I don't want your grandpa's creepy glasses, Sam." (Y/N) rolled her eyes. She stopped at her locker to put a few textbooks away. "If you wanna sell them so bad, try a freshman. Now, I've got plans, so—"
"You don't understand how important this is!"
Perhaps she didn't, but frankly, (Y/N) did not care. For all she knew, the perfect car for her was minutes away from being bought by someone else. (Y/N) began to walk away, and Sam hurried to follow. She did not have the time nor the patience to deal with him. "Can you stop following me?"
"Just hear me out! I think we could have a good deal here."
"Look," (Y/N) stopped walking and dug around in her pocket. "Here's five dollars. Now will you please leave me alone?"
Sam looked genuinely surprised to see that she caved. He took the money graciously, staring down in awe. "You're a godsend."
(Y/N) clicked her tongue in annoyance and finally exited the building. She'd just barely made it down the school's front steps when Sam called out to her.
"Wait!" He ran down the steps. "Here, don't forget these!"
He held out the glasses. (Y/N) took them solely to appease him before carelessly tucking them into her bookbag's side pocket. Then she was on her way to her mom's car.
"You helped a boy's dream come true today!" Sam called after her. (Y/N) sighed, feeling everyone's eyes on her. If the students weren't all younger than her, she might've been embarrassed.
As soon as she got to her mother's car, (Y/N) got inside. She had no desire to talk to Sam any longer, and she had matters of her own to attend to. It was time to buy her first car!
***
"Out of all places, (Y/N), why did you choose here?"
(Y/N) and her mother stood side by side in a run down dealership. A rusted sign read: Bolivia's Automotive, and the bulbs in the 'A' were shattered. All of the cars in the lot were old rust buckets that looked to be on their last wheel.
"I... dunno," (Y/N) answered honestly. "But I do like old cars. Maybe there's a hidden gem."
Her mother did not look so sure. If (Y/N) was being honest, she wasn't completely sure, either.
However, they continued through the aisles of cars, keeping an eye out for anything that looked like it could still start up without copious amounts of effort. It seemed like they were searching for a very small needle in the worlds largest haystack. If (Y/N) hadn't felt like there was a reason she needed to be there, she might've left as soon as she arrived.
Then, she found it. Or at least, she was pretty sure she found it.
A beautiful yellow Camaro with black racing stripes was parked just in front of her. (Y/N) almost thought it was a crime to have such a wonderful car in such a dump. Sure, the car looked like it had seen better days; the paint was rusted and very, very scratched. Not to mention, the back left tire looked a bit flat. However, (Y/N) thought it gave it flare. Besides, her father promised her that he would help her fix up whatever car she got if need be.
"Oh, this is it!" (Y/N) exclaimed, rushing up to the Camaro. She opened up the driver's door and got inside. The seat was a bit firm, but it wasn't unbearable. There was a shining disco ball hanging from the rear view mirror and an air freshener shaped like a bumblebee, with 'bee-otch' scribbled down below.
It was perfect.
"Are you sure?" Asked her mother. "We haven't finished looking around, yet."
"I have never been more sure of anything in my life." (Y/N) said. "This is the car."
"Well, alright..." Her mother looked hesitant to make a purchase from a dealership like the one they were in. However, she started toward the small building where the employees resided. "I'll see if we can find someone to help us."
"Thank you!" (Y/N) called, and with that, her mother went inside, leaving (Y/N) alone with the car.
She noticed the center of the wheel was covered in dirt and brushed it off with her thumb. There was a symbol, but one (Y/N) didn't recognize. She chopped it up to a custom design, as the car was clearly pre owned. Perhaps it was someone else's art. Either way, it added to the car's personality, and only made (Y/N) want to buy it even more.
Soon enough, her mother returned and just behind her was a man in a Hawaiian shirt and a fedora. He looked quite excited to see that someone bravely ventured into his dealership. It didn't seem like a place that would get very many customers.
(Y/N) got out of the car to greet the man, finding he had on a pair of socks with his sandals. Whoever let him leave the house like that, she thought, was no friend of his.
"This is Mr. Bolivia." Her mother nodded towards the man. "He runs the place."
He outstretched one of his calloused hands to (Y/N). "Call me Uncle Bobby B."
"That's okay," (Y/N) shook his hand.
"So your momma tells me you're looking at this beauty?" He nodded towards the Camaro. "You know, I could see you driving around in this. It's like I always say: the car picks the driver."
(Y/N) nodded dismissively, tucking her hands into her pockets. "Do you know anything about it?"
Mr. Bolivia took a closer look at the car, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "Well, uh... it's a Camaro." He circled around it to get a better look. "Yeah, I don't know nothin about this car."
"Is it a new addition to the lot?" (Y/N)'s mother questioned.
"Uh... no? I don't even remember bringing it in."
"So it just showed up?"
"Cool!" (Y/N) decided. "I'll take it!"
"(Y/N), I'm not so sure we should."
"That's okay, because I'm sure." (Y/N) smiled at her mother, who only sighed in defeat. She took it as her cue to proceed. "How much?"
"Well," Mr. Bolivia placed his hands on the top of the car, leaning carelessly on it's door. "Given the semi-classic nature of the vehicle, with the slick wheels and custom paint job..." (Y/N) could tell he was making things up as he went along to make the price higher. "Five grand," He decided.
(Y/N) was not a well seasoned car expert, nor was she a car expert by any means, but she had eyes. "The custom paint job is faded and all scratched up. Plus one of the slick wheels is flat. No offense, but this isn't worth five grand."
Mr. Bolivia narrowed his eyes at (Y/N). Then, he took on that condescending tone (Y/N) knew well from adult men. "I wouldn't expect you to understand."
"Excuse me—?"
"How about four thousand?" (Y/N)'s mother interjected. She knew well of her child's short temper and when to step in before things turned south.
"Five grand or nothing."
"Fine," Said (Y/N). "Then nothing. C'mon mom,"
But just as the women turned to go, the passenger door of the Camaro swung open, leaving a decent sized dent in the neighboring yellow bug. They turned around to see what all the commotion was, only to find Mr. Bolivia looking at his bug with great concern.
"Ooh! Let me get a sledgehammer and knock this right out. Hey, Manny! Get your clown cousin and get hammers and bang this out baby!"
(Y/N) and her mother shared a concerned look. She began to question whether or not Bolivia's Automotive cars were to be trusted at all.
The radio in the Camaro sparked to life, barely audible over Mr. Bolivia's shouting. For a moment, through all the static, (Y/N) could've sworn she heard a snippet from a radio broadcast. She couldn't quite make all of it out, but she could decipher "greater than man," and just as she turned to her mother to ask if, perhaps, she heard it, too, the Camaro cranked up its volume and a high pitched noise played through the lot.
(Y/N) and her mother hurried to cover their ears while Mr. Bolivia dove to the ground. The windows of all nearby cars shattered and glass flew everywhere. When all the chaos subsided, all that was left unharmed was the Camaro.
(Y/N) began to think that Mr. Bolivia, as strange as he was, was right about the car choosing it's driver. However, (Y/N) hadn't ever seen a car fight so hard for a driver, and though it was sort of terrifying, (Y/N) couldn't deny that it was probably the coolest thing that ever happened to her.
Mr. Bolivia got to his feet, looking around the wasteland of broken glass. He let out a shaky breath, and seizing her opportunity, (Y/N) pointed a finger at the Camaro behind her.
"Four grand!" She demanded.
"Hell, I'd give it to you for free!" Said the man. "Just get it off of my lot!"