Once in the parking lot, Trudy stopped to stand beside her red POS. The mechanic had replaced the electronic pickup sensor, so it now ran smoothly. In fact, the car ran smoother than it had since she bought it used five years ago. She drew in a deep breath.
Maybe I’ll stop calling it my piece of s**t.
She retrieved her car keys from her purse and unlocked the car door, then eased into the driver’s seat. She chuckled. Maybe I’ll call it my good ol’ gal, like its owner.
As she drove out of the parking lot, she glanced at the thin, faux gold watch on her left wrist. She had twenty minutes to get to the bank for the oft-delayed meeting about the business.
Turning right, she drove north on the coast highway. Rolling the driver’s side window down, she rested an elbow on the doorframe, using
