“Car trouble?” he asked, stepping from his dusty ute.
“Yep,” I nodded warily, measuring him up. His worn hat, his weather-beaten face, his flanelette shirt told me one thing. This bloke knew more about cars than I did. Not much of a stretch, though. Most people do.
“Well what’s wrong with it mate? Speak up!”
“Uh, I think it’s the alternator,” I said. I didn’t have a clue.
“The alternator? Well then your farked,” he said, swotting at the flies gathering around him. “These plastic shitboxes aren’t even meant to have ’em! Go on, give us a look.”
He nudged me out of the way, and my hand grabbed the hood support, collapsing the bonnet on him.
“Farrrrrrrkk” he yelled as I pushed down on the hood, pressing him against the smoking hot engine.
When the screaming stopped, I got his keys, his car, and continued my journey.
About the author: Austin P. Sheehan is a Melbourne based author who grew up in the valleys of the Victorian Alps.
Having been inspired to write in 2017, his debut novel will hopefully be released in 2020, and in the meantime, several of his short stories have been accepted for publication.