Fords car collection

The thought was interrupted by the overhead lights punching on. The first revealed a small selection of various cars and motorcycles. For a brief moment, Shinji actually expected the whole room to be filled with cars.

 

It was actually a minor dissapointment to find that it was mostly empty space,

 

One was an old model, with patchwork paint and engineless. What must’ve been the engine was on a bench. The windscreen was gone and the interior looked to be a mess. It looked like a drowned car that’d been dredged up from one of the old cities. The only visible identification were the letters ‘GT-500’ on the lower edge of the door.

 

“What a heap of junk,” he commented.

 

Ford’s eyes narrowed at him.  “Even like that it’s worth more than everything else in here combined.”

 

He cringed. “Sorry,”

 

“Hey, it’s alright. It looks a lot like the standard one to people who don’t know better.”

 

Beyond that, something with a South Australia registration. It was another old Ford, this one a four door police-car painted in yellow and blue with a white and red cheatline separating both colours.

 

“That’s a Falcon XB Jet bought for me. It’s an automatic.” Shinji dreaded being told to drive it. “But the transmission was blown on it by some idiot thinking he was Mad Max. That’s how she got it so cheap.”

 

Those four headlights menaced him as he passed.

 

There were three others, new models, one of which Ford Sierra told him she’d taken her own name from. They seemed a little less remarkable, more modern 4-door family cars. He looked ip at her.

 

“How do you afford all these?”

 

Again, she smiled down at him.

 

“Well, we only getting one chance at the trough. We might aswell eat our fill and enjoy it while we can.”

 

The boy nodded. A very American attitude, he thought.

 

“Besides, I think it’s important to try and preserve a few of them for the future. Especially with how fast the universe is changing.”

 

Again, he nodded. “That’s why Misato kept her car. She loved pre-impact cars.”

 

She’d’ve probably been able to appreciate this little collection.

 

“What did she have?”

 

“A Renault. I think....” To his shame, he couldn’t remember more about it that than. “The engine was in the back,”

 

“Probably an Alpine then,” said Ford. “Those are rare.”

 

Shinji went quiet. His last memory of that car was of bullets clattering against the engine. Misato yelped and pumped at the brakes as the concrete wall grew inexorably closer. The next thing he knew, he was bleeding out his mouth where he’d bitten his lip in the impact.

 

He licked at his lip. There wasn’t even a tender spot left.

 

“It’s just back here.”

 

She pointed at a low-slung shape lurking behind a collection old ancient firecracker-red Kawasakis, something sleek and modern called a Stingray and an ancient BMW with an incontinent oilstain on the floor underneath it.