Alpine A110

Today was supposed to be my last day to live. I watched as my friends were crushed and compacted into nothing more than small cubes. I wanted to get as far from this junkyard as I could, but I had no rider. That’s when the girl in black showed up. She had long black hair with pink streaks in it and was walking toward me with a sinister grin on her face. She smashed one of my windows and hopped inside of me. I felt her weight shift in the main seat as she began rummaging through all my compartments. That’s when she found my key, the one thing that can bring me to move. She put it in the ignition and turned as I roared to life. She slammed her foot on the pedal and I knew I had to get going. We swerved and skidded out of the junkyard, my home for what felt like an eternity. She directed me to a small building with strange looking objects, and parts that looked similar to my own. She told me to stop and then took my key away once again, and I was unable to move. I felt her remove and tear me apart, but gently. I started to feel rejuvenated as she added more and more parts back onto me, and within a few hours I felt the best I had in years. She took a step in front of me and exclaimed, “You’re all fixed up now William. Can’t believe they left a functional Alpine A110 to rot.” So I guess that’s my name, William Alpine.