Scrivenings of the King-Beyond-The-Wall

Western World #4

Max never thought he'd enter a car race, especially not with his battered old pickup, affectionately named Bessie. Yet here he was, standing at the starting line of the annual Aspen Street Derby, an eccentric tradition in his small town where the community celebrated the start of summer with a whimsical car race through the town’s streets.

The race was not about speed—no, Aspen Street couldn’t handle high-speed chases. It was about flair, creativity, and community spirit. Cars were decked out in outrageous decorations, from a sedan covered in shimmering disco balls to a hatchback that resembled a giant, rolling hamburger.

Max had initially scoffed at the idea. "A race for clunkers?" he'd joked at the local diner. But when his young niece, Emma, overheard, her excitement was infectious. "Let’s make Bessie a racecar!" she had chirped, her eyes sparkling with the kind of pure enthusiasm only a ten-year-old could muster.

So, driven by a desire to thrill Emma, Max found himself roping tinsel and streamers around Bessie, attaching cardboard wings to the sides, and even fixing a makeshift spoiler on the back made from an old bookshelf plank. They painted flames on the sides with washable paint, giving Bessie a fierce, albeit slightly wonky, new look.

The day of the race, Aspen Street was bustling with excitement. Locals lined the sidewalks, lounging in lawn chairs, sipping lemonade, and cheering as each contestant rolled by for the inspection. Emma waved proudly at the crowd, who responded with cheers and laughter at Bessie's homemade bravado.

Max felt a surprising surge of competitiveness as he eyed the competition. There was Larry from the hardware store with his truck decked out like a spaceship, complete with silver spray paint and blinking lights. And Mrs. Henderson, the retired librarian, had transformed her tiny Smart Car into a dragon, complete with green scales and a tail.

"Uncle Max, look!" Emma tugged at his sleeve, pointing at the starting line where the mayor, dressed as a race marshal, was readying the flag.

The air buzzed with the rumble of engines and the murmur of the crowd. As the flag went down, Max pressed his foot down with a grin, and Bessie chugged forward amidst the roar of more powerful engines.

The course wound through the town, past the post office, the elementary school, and around the old millpond. Max and Emma laughed as they took the turns, waving to onlookers, the truck’s cardboard wings flapping comically with each bump in the road.

Despite their slow speed, something wonderful happened. One by one, the flashy cars pulled to the side, struck by minor malfunctions or by drivers too tickled by laughter to focus. Larry’s spaceship lost a light. Mrs. Henderson’s dragon tail snagged on a fire hydrant.
As Bessie rolled past the finish line, the crowd erupted into applause. Max and Emma exchanged a look of disbelief, followed by triumphant laughter. They hadn’t just finished the race; they’d won.

At the award ceremony, Emma accepted the golden steering wheel trophy, her face alight with joy. “We did it, Bessie and us!” she exclaimed.

Max ruffled her hair, looking at the old pickup with newfound respect. “We sure did, kiddo.”


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(532 words)


Prompt: Make a race an important element of your story.