Country Girl Style (Writing Prompt 1)
The prompt was:
Describe washing a car, without actually mentioning the car or that you are washing it.
I walked outside as the sun reached its peak, and there he stood. He was dressed in the same brown as the night before, but I loved every inch of him. My cheeks flushed with excitement as I recalled the events of the previous evening. He had just received that thick, dirty coat not sixteen hours earlier.
It had been raining, and we both knew what that meant. After gathering a few friends together, we had gone out into the afternoon storm with music blaring and a cooler full of ice cold Dr. Pepper strapped to the back. It was all in good fun as our tires tore up patches of green grass by the roots and flung them far behind us. We had been slipping and sliding, digging and climbing. It all ended around a bonfire, with beer in place of the soda and the acoustic melody of a friend’s guitar rather than a booming radio. It had been a night to remember.
“Are you ready baby?” I asked as I pulled my hair back into a loose bun. I had warned him before I went to bed that we would have another kind of adventure today. Before I reached him, I turned on the water hose and splashed him playfully. Still he stood there, the water glistening across his muscular physique. As much of a chore as it might have been to any other girl, I knew I was going to enjoy this.
He towered two feet above me, and my step-stool barely put me at head height. He was taller than most, with a heavyset build and a sizeable rear end that most girls laughingly referred to as “more to love.” I made sure to soak every inch of him; he didn’t complain once. The cool water was a refreshing relief from the blistering heat of the day. I lathered soap on my sponge and ran it down his silver mane, gradually working my way down. A few chunks of dirt clung to him in places, but I made sure to be thorough. He deserved greatness, and I would give him no less.
I silently ran my hands down his sides, wincing each time my fingertips brushed across a scratch. He was tough, that much was certain. I didn’t know how he could endure such beatings and still have the strength and willpower to take me out each day, but I admired him for it. I was much more gentle here with my sponge, caressing his battle scars with the respect they demanded. Pity had no effect on him; he earned every gash and he would wear each one with pride.
I sprayed him again with the hose. As the water pooled around my boots, I watched his dirty, lackluster appearance turn clean and sleek. For a moment, I considered turning him on. When he was happy, he purred like a kitten. But get him fired up and he was a mighty lion, roaring into action with the power of what I could only imagine 381 horses would have. Instead I decided to simply snuggle up against him, closing his arms around me and letting myself become immersed in all that he was. The salty smell of leather mingled with the sweet perfume of a strawberry-lemonade pine tree.
After a few minutes, I swung his arms out wide and took a step back, then gently returned them to his sides before walking behind him to a long black bed. This bed was much harder than the one I usually slept on, but I didn’t care. My eyes scanned the clouds and I laid in quiet contemplation, he and I both still drying off in the sun. There was a loud crack as a bolt of lightning broke out across the sky, followed by a deep growl. As the storm rolled in, a smile crept across my face. It seemed we would be doing this again tomorrow.
“Come on, baby. Let’s go play.”
Got a poem, sentence, or short story that fits the prompt? Share it in the comments!