Narrative: Parker Ramsey Who: PJ and herself Where: Her truck When: Wednesday Night What: Driving back from the capital Warnings: Nope.
Driving home from the capital in the middle of the night to be at her shop by the time it opened wasn't so bad. It was dark, PJ was alone on the highway for the most part, and she wasn't very sleepy. Not exactly a recipe for disaster. It would be a long 24 hour turn around, she'd done the same drive the previous night, spent all day at car auctions and shops. She'd gotten what she wanted for Atticus's El Camino, and the parts she needed for Nick's Camaro. All in all it was a pretty successful day.
She'd anticipated a full load on her truck on the way back but when she looked in the rear view mirror and saw that it was a bit fuller than she'd anticipated, she tried not to feel too guilty.
The Ford Pick up truck had been born in 1945, and she'd gotten it half out of spite and half out of desire for the old girl. She'd set a limit for herself. Gone way over it. But at least the douche she was bidding against hadn't gotten it. And she'd love it. And cuddle it. Besides, she didn't have a pick up truck. Well. Not one like this anyway. Nevermind that she was supposed to be downsizing. This didn't count. Nope. Not one bit.
She was still perfectly capable of having an estate sale and buying a truck. Besides, she didn't have a project of her own at that moment. She didn't know why she was trying to justify it to herself, she had no one to answer to anymore, and that was nice and refreshing. The interesting other side of the coin to having left the pack behind in Nebraska. She didn't let her mind wander that far. It was too dark and too quiet.
Instead she cranked up the music, and started thinking happier thoughts. Like pearlized purple and metallic white.