The Blue Car

We shivered in an orderly line by the side of school, all dressed up in our uniforms.

The car pulled up. It was blue and shiny like a beetle, with old paint peeling off in places. Small as a mini, rattling like a tin can. It was my friend's dad's car.

We bundled in and it was then I saw him. The dog. A crazy dog, blonde haired and manic as anything, sitting in the middle of the backseat, panting.

"We just brought her back from a walk. I hope it's not a problem?"

"Of course not," I reply, squeezing myself in beside the mutt.

The car takes off, rattling, feeling every bump in the road. The dog starts howling, struggling, pawing at my legs, inspecting my face close up.

"Everything all right back there?"

"Of course," I reply, exchanging a glance with my friend who grins, suppressing his laughter.

And far too long later, the door pops open and I'm home and I fly from the little blue car, brushing blonde dog hairs from my legs, smiling despite myself.