Friday Fictioneers – The Old Car

friday fictioneers

Jas sighed as he looked at the documents. He had returned home to attend his father’s funeral. His father had divided his property equally between Jas and his two siblings. Jas’s eyes searched the car park while his siblings discussed the contents of the will. He went over to an old car, neglected behind flashy new cars. It was the first car that they had bought. His siblings were not born then. Jas recalled his scribbling excited words on a piece of paper when his father dropped him in the boarding school. He decided that the car was the only thing he wanted in his father’s memory.  Let his siblings take everything else.

This was written for Friday fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. Thanks to Beth Carter for the photo.

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70 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers – The Old Car

  1. Jas treasures his father’s memories – I don’t mean his memories of his father, but “his father’s memories”.

    This rang true for me, Padmini – and I relish such hidden nuggets. The joy of discovery. Thank you for making it so.

    Peace, Eric
    P/s All of us parents recall vividly the pleasure the first car brought our child/children.

  2. When I started reading I thought Jas was going to get lumbered with the car and the others would get everything else! Sweet that the car was all he wanted – lovely little tale 🙂

  3. Obviously he cherishes the memories brought by the object more than all the rest of the inheritance. He has a connection with his father the others do not share and that is what he wants to cherish.

  4. I don’t know if you ever hear the song, The Randal Knife, by Guy Clark, but it came to mind when I read your story. Also made me think of my dad, who has been gone a few years now. Well done.

  5. I like this one very much. Pointing out how our memories decide after the fact what is or was important and of true value to us. Thank you, well written.

  6. The fact that Jas would take the car home speaks to the warmth of the memories associated with it. (I can relate as I have the ugliest of lamps which I treasure as it came from my father’s den.)

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