The Suspension Getaway

The Suspension Getaway

I kicked the car into gear and ignored its protesting squeal, twisting the wheel as I gunned the engine. Dust spat into the air behind me, kicking up a cloud as I raced down the desert road.

‘That was insane!’ Bugsy hollered from the seat next to me. ‘I can’t believe we made it out of there, without a scratch!’

I looked around mournfully at the spate of new dings and scratches on my beloved car and suppressed a whimper.

‘Not quite,’ I choked out.

‘Ah, the car’s easy!’ Bugsy laughed, slapping me on the shoulder. He swivelled around to glance into the backseat and let out a long whistle at the bags of cash sitting ever-so-innocently on the leather. ‘We can get you any mechanic you need!’

‘Even a mechanic in Frankston?’ I asked, blinking rapidly.

‘Even a mechanic in Frankston!’ he confirmed.

‘Fine,’ I sighed. ‘But it’s coming out of your share too.

His smile dropped for a moment as the engine lurched underneath us. ‘Maybe a more affordable mechanic. Near Frankston. Close by.’

It was my turn to laugh now. We drove like that for hours, money fluttering in the backseat, one of us occasionally chuckling to ourselves as we remembered a moment from the caper.

As the sun set behind us, I let out a yawn, stretching my arms out from the steering wheel to get the blood flowing again. This was, of course, the exact moment we hit the Grand Canyon of pot holes.

I swore, as Bugsy squealed, the car’s suspension dipping under the incredible impact. Grappling for control, I squeezed the steering wheel until my knuckles threatened to burst, until we finally skidded to a stop.

‘Well,’ Bugsy panted as soon as the dust had settled. ‘Looks like we’re adding a suspension service for my car to that bill.’

‘Your car?’ I glared at him. ‘Where’d you get that idea?’

‘Do you have any idea how much this is all going to cost me?’ he asked, pointing at the wreck of the chassis. ‘We may as well have not even done the heist! So yeah – I’m co-owner of the car now!