How I lost my car.

It was on a Hot, sunny day, when we drove across, dusty towns of west coastland to reach our destination of a remote, beach house. Me and my family were in the Car, the old blue mustang, that I inherited from my Father when he succumbed to respiratory failure after years of agonizing suffering to catch his breath, a direct result of chronic smoking in his youth. The old man is out of misery now, the only thing that remained physically as a memory was his car. So, the Car was very close to my heart, even it was just a piece of Junkyard metal. If it was damaged, I would rather go rampage, Like John Wick would do for his own dog, when it was killed. But nobody knew. It was a secret, from the beginning, as openly agreed by everyone else in my family, it was just scrap Metal, brought up as discussion material in every family gathering.

Ford.

So, when the car started to smoke in the middle of the graded slope, nobody was surprised. I was lost, but luckily there was some kind of a repair shop half a mile uphill in the countryside. The beach was just over the mountain, so, I let my family hitch-hike for a ride while I went solo to the repair shop. I knew nobody want to bother having to go to the repair with me, as the car was my sole responsibility.

I parked the car, in a slight slope, and opened the bonnet so it could cool down itself, yet nobody came from the shop to meet me. I could see half a dozen cars, on each side of the road parked in the shade of the workshop. It seemed a busy place several young men working on their own schedule, tackling their own broken car. As everyone was busy, and my issue needed urgent attention I decided to walk up to one of them and talk. The young man I approached looked friendly, he was covered with grease, and dust, yet with a gentle smile he looked at my concerned face. And reassured me in a minute, he would come up to have a look to see he could do any help. As promised, he did, wiping out his dirty fingers with an equally dirty piece of cloth he joined me to walk across the road. to have a look into my smoking car. It's only when we tried to cross the road, I saw, my car was not there where I was parked it!

The young man looked at me with a puzzled face and spoke. "Mr., you say you have trouble with your car, but I suggest you have no car". With an annoyed look he went inside his hut. And I was puzzled too. I checked again the place I parked the car. There were no track marks. And I attempted to look inside each side of the garage. I was little panicked at this point, as I have never heard something like this. How can my car be lost in a matter of few minutes? I was just ten minutes away from it. There must be some kind of weird thing happening. So, I started to investigate, and I could feel my blood start to boil each minute I was unable to find a clue about my now disappeared car. I checked each and every car parked inside the garage. Becoming more and more suspicious, as all the men I spoke to have not seen, or could not explain what happened to my vehicle. As I was getting frustrated with the search, my mind started to make many weird theories about what happened. Did someone tow trucked it? Did the people in the garage stole it? repainted it? Did it slide downhill as was for a failure of brakes? So, I walked down the road, and in few hundred meters, I found some tracks of a car. I couldn't explain them and my suspicion grew, I spent a good hour to looking for my crashed car, yet I couldn't see anything beyond those mystery tracks. And more I searched more I found that it was an unlikely scenario, as there was no evidence of a crashed car, over the bend. If it went downhill without maneuvering of a man, it couldn't have made that bend, and there was no sign of a crash.

The weight of someone stealing the car, near the garage was becoming more obvious explanation. I went back to the garage and snuck into the deep end of the workshop. And there was a butcher house, in the back of it. What Kind of weird place is this? And I saw some tables, with powder on it. White powder which could only resemble some kind of drug. And there were several, angry looking, well-built men gathered smoking. They were all about same height and tattooed all over their bodies neck downwards. And they all were wearing dark cloths; some were drenched with sweat. I could only resemble them with some kind of a secret gang, hiding in the roof of the garage. And when I saw them, I lost the hope of ever finding out what happened to my car. It must be half across the country by now, surely, and any attempt at recovery of my mustang should only meant my life is in danger, And I wanted to get out of this place.

I ran out of the workshop, and strange feeling of weirdness surrounded me again. This whole affair of losing my car had some unexplainable twist to it. This is not something which happens to everyone every day. And I wondered what happened to my family, and why they did not call me, and how am I going to explain to them that I lost my car. Would they believe me. And why am I feeling so weird since the beginning of it. Then with a sudden jerk, like hit with a club on head I realized, this was all wrong. This is all wrong, it cannot be true.

And I just woke up drenched with sweat. I was on no vacation. Just a nap, while at work, after lunch, and that was all the weirdness about.