101 – Rags

The damned oil filter was really clogged, stupid desert sand. She’d already had to strip the whole system and clean the tank, but the filter was probably beyond repair.

Well, they weren’t really built to last that long anyway. She got up, leaving an oily palm print on the red wing on the side of the tank.

Shit! Just what she needed. She took another piece of the shiny fabric and tried to wipe it off, only managing to smudge it even more. She was about to curse again when she noticed clean oil sipping thru the other side of the rag.

The engine sounded awful and was probably overheating, but at least she’d be able to make it to Palo Seco. Not big enough to be even called a town, but just big enough to find a new filter, a bucket and clean oil.

She made one last stop to switch the now clogged fabric for a new piece. Who’d have known that stupid white monstrosity would finally be good for something?

“And you really wanted me… ME… to wear that thing and walk down the aisle smiling for you? As if forcing me to play along just so you could legally lay claim on me wasn’t enough.”

The distant lights of the shacks were a beautiful sight. Almost as beautiful as the stars over the empty road.

“Brian, you’ve fucked over so many people. Hope you’re enjoying having to go fuck yourself for a change.”

White was never really her color anyway.

She revved the engine a bit for the last mile.

• • •

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