You will find short stories on this site. Most are autobiographical. Some are fiction.

INDEPENDENT CHILD

In 1989, when my daughter Monica turned 16, she wanted a car. I believe that this desire was more of an expression of her independence than a need for transportation. She had saved some money, so her mother and I agreed to pay the balance up to $1200. I decided that the police auction would be the best place to buy an inexpensive used car. On auction day, we arrived early to look at the selection. The keys were in the cars. We could start the engines, but we couldn’t drive them. We tried several which I thought would sell for under $1,200. Monica decided which car she wanted. It was a White Honda. Apparently confiscated during a drug bust.

The auction started with the auctioneer rattling off his indecipherable spiel, always ending with the only intelligible words “Do I hear” followed by the next higher increment in bidding. A number of cars were sold before the auctioneer came to the one Monica had chosen. '“The next vehicle is a Honda CRX, 1988, white.” The bidding started. Each time someone else would signal acceptance of the next bidding increment. I would raise my hand, signaling that I would pay the subsequent increment. The bidding narrowed to me and one other man. I bid $1200. We had reached our limit. The other guy bid $1250. The Auctioneer looked at me. I shrugged and shook my head. Then he accepted a bid from a new bidder. The bidding continued back and forth quickly between the previous man and the new bidder until it ended with the auctioneer pointing to someone behind me, saying, “Sold to the young lady in yellow for $1400.” I turned, curious to see who the successful bidder had been. There in her bright yellow blouse stood Monica with a sheepish grin.