Radiator Springs: A Zansasi Highway Adventure
Copyright© 2006 by DB_Story
Chapter 5: Home Sometimes is Just a House
It was dark when I arrived home.
The last of many wonderful things had happened thirty minutes earlier when I'd reached down to adjust the radio one final time. I'd traveled across several broadcast footprints on this trip, and knew precisely where this out-of-town station would soon fade.
Of course I know my local stations best. I just needed to skip past two other stations to get to another one worth my ears. The first station up the dial is news/talk, which I like when I want content in my entertainment, and ignore when I just want to relax. I wasn't looking for content right now.
And above that is a fifty-thousand watt rap music — an oxymoron, if there ever was one — station that absolutely doesn't appeal to me ever.
I was still new to using such a fancy radio, and didn't want to take my eyes off the road having safely navigated both of us this far already today. My finger barely brushed across the skip button before the radio jumped over those two stations on its own and settled into my favorite oldies station.
The most interesting thing about this is that I didn't even consider it unusual. It had been that kind of a magical day.
When I arrived, I moved my other car out onto the street to give Sally the garage to herself. Although it's a so-called Two Car garage, one and a half is more like it. I didn't want her bumped or scraped in the tight quarters.
Inside the house there were four messages on my answering machine. The first was from my brother telling me he'd had car trouble, and asking if he could borrow my car. The next three were him calling back and asking if I'd gotten the previous message yet.
My brother is a good person. He's trying to make it with a wife and three kids on a single paycheck so that the kids will all have a full-time mother.
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