Arts
Bucket Full of Miles The new post on Craigslist caught the attention of my father and, sure enough, my 19-year-old self. He hoped this would be the car I chose, not because he liked it but for the price it was going for. $1,100 seemed to be the lowest amount we could find for a used model, unintentionally with over 200,000 miles. Three days later we met the owner, Mr. Moon, in the parking lot at a gas station. As my father successfully negotiated for an even lower price, I walked over to what would become mine. After staring at the oxidized black paint on the hood and crooked front license plate, I sat inside the unlocked vehicle. The scent of faint cigarette smoke embedded in the gray seats didn’t bother me because the car was decent and I was anxious to become a new driver. I remember my father and Mr. Moon walking over to hand me the keys. They both stared as I struggled to start the engine. With a firm grip and full force, the car let out a high pitched grinding noise that lured in the eyes of bystanders. My father looked as if this was why it took me three times to pass my driving test, while Mr. Moon appeared reluctant to sell his car. He asked me if I knew how to drive as he opened the
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