...but it didn't. That's when I learned he purchased a car on the streets of Bridgeport...Jen...and it was his answer to finding more work and creating an identity for himself as a young man.
Well, Jen actually is what bonded us together, because Jen had her issues: a battery that would die out, a backdoor that never shut and had to be kept tight through seatbelt and bungie chords, and a breakline that could have killed him if he wasn't such a cautious, intuitive drive. He wasn't living with me at the time, but it was through these mishaps that the mentorship grew stronger. He moved in soon after, redirecting his life towards college, better employment, and a greater focus.
Still, Jen was a miserable set of wheels. He dumped more of his savings into her, but after this winter, he knew she only had a few weeks left. He stashed away cash for some time and was able to make a better purchase (we hope). It was sad, however, that the junkyard came to sweep Jen away. A boy's first car. A sense of pride. An impulsive testimony to adolescence.
But now my driveway is free from Jen's leaks, aches, and discontent. She's moved on to rustier pastures, but it was still a sad day for the kid. He sent this photo with an emoticon, a not-so-happy face with a tear.
I totally understood.