I stepped onto my front porch. The clear, cool, crisp air assailed me, and I breathed deeply. I opened my eyes and peared down the crescent, as always. But behold, this morning, there was something different. An orange Honda Element 8 houses away. Oh la LA! I quickly walked down the sidewalk and rang the doorbell of the house it was situated in front of. A middle aged man came to the door; partially bald, in khakis and a dark jacket.

"Sir," I said " do you mind if I take some pictures of your Element? I'm a rabid fan of them."

His eye opened wide, and he looked carefully at me.

"How old are you?" he asked.

"I'm 16." I smiled.

"By all means. Go ahead and look in it."

I was estatic. I took pictures of the front, the side, the back. And looked inside. It rocked. He even let me drive it around the block! I said to myself, this must be paradi...

...or so I fantisized. In reality, I just gaped at it as I walked by with my paper bag, my eyes taking in every detail of its beautiful body.

And on the way back, paper bag slung over my shoulder, I saw it turn onto another road, diractly across from me. Disappearing slowly, the whispy puffs of grey exhaust whispered farwell. The H on the back waved goodbye. A tear rolled down my cold cheek. And it started to rain.

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