So because there’s no directive this week I’m going to give myself one: Flashbacks. I always liked flashbacks as a literary and cinematic plot tool so why not make them a tool for creativity too? I know I have plenty to write about for this directive (duh, that’s why I chose it) but I’ll start with a little fiction. Confession: I can’t drive. Which makes writing about cars for an entire semester a little weird because I have basically no driving experience. Anyway, I thought it’d be interesting to do a flashback that isn’t actually real (for me at least): learning how to drive. most people in the world (okay, the US, I’m not sure about elsewhere) know how to drive and had to learn at some point so it would definitely be relatable. Here goes.
It was snowing out. School was cancelled because the weatherman was calling for at least six more inches by sundown. Us kids were ecstatic of course but dad was none too happy about our snow day excitement waking him up on his day off. He came down into the living room and pointed at me with a sour look on his face. I was sure I was about to get a talking to for not keeping the younger siblings quiet when he said, “Get ready, we’re going out.” “In this?” I wanted to know. I would almost have thought he was joking but for the glare he gave my inquisition. I got up and went to put on my boots and coat without another word. When I got outside he was standing in the driveway on the passenger side of his old Bus. I shot him a look of confusion and to my pure shock, he tossed me the keys. “Really?” I was seriously expecting him to come over and snatch them right back out of my hand but instead he said, “yes, really, now get in and start it up, I’m freezing my ass off.” and got into the car. I stood there a beat, still not believing he was doing this, then hurried to get in before his sanity returned and he changed his mind. He never let me drive, even though I’d had my permit for three whole months. But why a snow day? Of all the times he could’ve chosen to teach me..or had he been planning on teaching me today, his one, sacred day off, and it just happened to be snowing? I’d never know because I sure as hell knew better than to ask. I closed the door and glanced over at the surely beast that is my father and we almost have an actual meaningful exchange, I can feel it, but no, he just asks if I know what to do first. I know this one. “Seatbelt.” I know all of them really, I’ve been practicing secretly, running through the checklist until I say it in my sleep (at least that’s what Tommy claims, but he’s full of it, so I don’t believe him). I do everything until I’m sitting there with my foot on the brake and the car in reverse. I glance over at him again and he gives me a “what the hell are you waiting for?” look and the message is so clear I swear I can hear him thinking it. He says nothing as I slowly back out into the street. “Where are we going?” I ask. “Just driving.” Is his cryptic response. “Just go down Main.” And so I drive. It’s unbearably slow because the Bus doesn’t have snow tires or anything and I know better than to go over 10 miles per hour with no friction for brakes, but it’s driving. There’s not a single car in sight because anyone would be a fool to drive in this weather. I’m sure I’ve been grinning like one when he finally breaks the complete snowy silence. “Pull into that parking lot.” I do and he tells me to get out. I’m sure I’ve done something wrong, made some mistake and now he’ll never let me drive again. I’ll graduate and then grow old and never get to drive. He comes around and taps on the window so I get out, crushed. Before I even have a chance to walk around the side of the car he gets in and revs the engine so hard that I’m sure he plans to run me over for being a failure of a son. I leap back but the engine dies down just as soon as it roared and he gets out again. I glance around in confusion, as unsure as I’ve been all morning but he just says, “now fix it” and walks around to get back in the passenger seat. As I look at my shoes, I suddenly understand what he’s done. He got the van stuck in the snow. He wants me to figure out how to do this. He’s helping me learn. This realization hits me like a brick and all I can do is stand there in the driving snow dumbfounded by my father’s willingness to give up his day to help me learn how to drive. I glance up and see his blurry glaring face through the window and scramble back into the driver’s seat.
So this was weird. I haven’t written ‘for fun’ in a really long time and I’d forgotten how much fun fiction writing could be. I don’t do short stories very often but I think this one does a decent job creating an emotional connection between the reader and this father-son duo. I like it. I just don’t know that it counts as an idea. How do I relate it to the brand? It’s a bonding experience and yes, the van plays a major part, but I don’t know. Is it enough?
Copy Write Paste 