He got that stupid car fixed. It took him all of a week to fix the Fairlady. I don't know what he did or how he did it, but he did, and I'm nervous. I can't even go near that car without feeling nervous, and against my better judgement, Wes talked me into the driver's seat. Nerves shot through me like lightning; I looked down at the gauges. they seemed to glare at me with malevolence and hate. I bolted from the car and ran for my Camaro. That Fairlady wanted me dead and would kill me if it got the chance. Wes got in the Camaro with me and asked why I ran from his car. I explained that I felt that his car hated me and would like to see me dead. He looked at me like I was crazy. He didn't believe me but that car would soon prove him wrong.
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My Buddy's Car
Mystery / ThrillerMy friend bought a 1972 Fairlady Z. I thought he bought a screaming metal death trap. Boy was I in for a shock
