TT #20: C Trouble

Most men take pride in their cars. It makes sense. Their vehicles are an extension of them, metal skins that proclaim to the world “Look at me in my Tesla, I am a man of means!”

Me? I don’t give a shit.

My car is just a tool to me. It gets me from A to B, home to office. I don’t have any cute names for it like Bertha or Carlos or Rumpelstiltskin rumpelstiltskin, I just drive it. There’s only one thing I love about my car - it’s wildly fuel efficient.

While other cars guzzle gas, mine sips like a champagne diva.

So I rarely have to stop for fuel. Anyway, after I got home from the night shift, Mansa finally sent me the “you up” text. I was brimming with excitement, right up until my car ran out of gas on the N1 highway. In hindsight, I already went from A to B.

I shouldn't have tried to make it to C.

Prompt: I went from A to B. I shouldn't have tried to make it to C

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