Regan had fond memories of her first car—a Volkswagen Beetle that had spent more time pulled apart in her garage than it did on the road. She had bought it second hand and, just like her father had warned her, it had been full of problems.
But she had loved tinkering with it, fixing it up, and repairing it—over and over again. It may have been in rough shape, but it had been hers. She had loved that car. She remembered her friends piling in, sitting on each others’ laps for beach trips and ice cream runs.
When the car had finally died for good, she swore she’d one day own another. That was back before she’d hit it big as an artist. These days, she drove a Mercedes. But Beetles remained a passion for her.
Now, instead of driving a Volkswagen, she collected old Bugs and painted them. Occasionally she’d let one go to auction for a charitable cause. But she refused to sell them. Today, she owned eighteen, each painted in a different design.
Sighing, she closed the garage that housed them. She was running out of space. Again. She briefly considered selling a few off, then, rejecting the idea, pulled her cell phone out of her pocket to call her contractor. Time to build another garage.
I was creating Volkswagen Beetle-turtle crosses for an AI art community prompt but some of the images I came up with were just floral. I really liked this one and decided to give it a story. Here are some of the other images that came up.
It just occurred to me as I am writing that my first car was also a VW Beetle, though I haven’t thought about it in a long while. I expect that subconsciously informed this story. It was also problematic, though I had no idea how to fix anything.
That car eventually died on the highway, stranding my brother Matthew, who had borrowed it. Matthew returned the favor, leaving the car where it sat. I never saw it again.
Loved this story!
How fun. Today one of my students showed me pictures of cars that were designed in the shape of shoes! It baffled me to say the least, haha.