The Winner

"But, I never win anything" he said, as the flashes blinding glare subsided. The photographers milled around, waiting for instructions. He had to admit, the shiny, new, ragtop VW was kinda pretty, almost cute. He didn't want a cute car. He liked to believe he was hip, but this car was going to attract way too much attention from his buddies. But what do I do with it? While pondering this question, he leaned up against the front fender. Placing his hand on the hood, do they call it a hood or a trunk, he wondered, the metal was smooth and warm to the touch. This car needed someone young and pretty and he knew just such a person, a cute little gal to sit behind the wheel. He smiled that crooked smile, as he pictured the look on his granddaughter's face when he handed her the keys on her sixteenth birthday. Oh, yeh, this was turning out to be a fine day.