It was just another typical day at the Marshal Fundamental Highschool in Tranquility, California. Many students were chattering as they hang out at the school entrance steps or they generally getting ready for their final classes of the day.

At the end of the classroom, (YN) Witwicky was in Mr. Hosney's history class, getting ready to address his classmates with his genealogy report. He is a 17-year-old boy, with a slightly above-average height of 5'10" with a lean yet well built and very fit frame. He has short, straight brownish-auburn hair parted in the middle with bangs on the sides, high cheekbones, a strong jawline, back-arched eyebrows, a straight nose, and sapphire blue eyes. He is wearing a red t-shirt with a cotton hooded, tan denim jacket overtop, as well as jeans and brown shoes.

Mr. Hosney: "Okay, Mr. Witwicky, you're up." He called him up. (YN) rises to his feet and makes his way to the front of the room.

(YN): "Sorry, I got a lot of stuff here." He apologized as he dumped his satchel full of various things. "Okay so, for my family-" He was interrupted when an elastic waste band hit his neck. Giggles and snickers erupted from the class as he rubbed his sore neck.

Mr. Hosney: "Who did-" He stood up to see who was responsible. "Who did that?" He demanded, glaring angrily as he pointed to the class. "People! Responsibility." He stared at the students for a few moments before he sat back down and give (YN) a nod to continued his story.

(YN): "Right, so, um, for my family genealogy report, I decided to do it on my great-great-grandfather, Captain Archibald Witwicky. He was a very famous explorer. As a matter of fact..." He pulled out some papers. "He was one of the first to explore the Arctic Circle, which was a big deal." He the shows the map of the Arctic Circle for the class to see. "In 1897, he took 41 brave sailors straight into the Arctic Shelf."

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In the cold of the Arctic Circle in 1897, a ship was trapped in the frozen waters with a bunch of men trying to get the vessel out.

Sailor 1: "Move faster, men! Move!" He shouted. "Chop! Heave!"

Sailor 2: "The ice is freezing faster than it's melting!" He called out.

First Mate: "Chop faster!" He cried.

The captain of the expedition was a man with a thick beard and a warm, protective coat named Archibald Amundsen Witwicky, (YN)'s great-great-grandfather, was praising his sailors for working hard to free the ship in the freezing cold. The wind howled as the miniature icicles dripped from his bead.

Archibald: "Heave, men! HEAVE!" He yelled. "No sacrifice, no victory! We'll get to Arctic Circle, lads!" He encouraged his sailors in determination as they struggled to keep the ship intact.

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(YN): "So, that's the story, right?" He put away the map. "And here we have some of the basic instruments and tools used by 19th century seamen." He explained, holding up a tubular piece of fabric. The students giggled at the word until Mr. Hosney held up a stop sign shaped sign that said 'QUIET', silencing the class. "This here is a quadrant, which you can get for 80 dollars. All for sale by the way." Then he holds up a pair of old glasses. The lenses were cracked and looked frail. "These are my grandfathers glasses, haven't appraised them yet, but they've seen many cool things."

Mr. Hosney: "Are you going to sell me his liver?" He asked (YN) sarcastically. (YN) rolled his eyes, putting down the glasses as he looked back at him. "Mr. Witwicky, this isn't show and sell. It's the 11th grade. I don't think your grandfather would be particularly proud of what you're doing."

(YN): "Right, sorry. Its just this all going towards my car fund." He apologized, now getting some old newspaper clippings. "Unfortunately, my great-great-grandfather, the genius he was, he wound up going blind and crazy in a ward, drawing these strange symbols and babbling on about a, uh, giant ice man he thought he'd discovered." Suddenly, the school bell rang and everyone began to pack up and leave.

Mr. Hosney: "Okay. Might be a pop quiz tomorrow! Might not!" He yelled to the class. "Sleep in fear tonight." (YN) also packs his stuff up. "Saved by the bell, Mr. Witwicky." He sighed to himself.

(YN): "Right." He walked over to Mr. Hosney's desk. "So... what's my grade?" He questioned, grinning in anticipation.

Mr. Hosney: "Uh..." He wiped some sweat off his head. "I'd say a solid... B-Minus." He mused. (YN)'s jaw dropped while his shoulders slumped down.

(YN): "A B-Minus?" He repeated. "Are you serious?"

Mr. Hosney: "You were hawking your great-grandfather's CRAP in my classroom." He complained at (YN).

(YN): "You can't just-" He cuts himself off and let out a sigh. "Look, can you do me a favor?"

Mr. Hosney: "What?" He grumbled.

(YN): "Can you look out the window there for a second?" He pointed his finger at the window, kneeling down. "You see that man over there?" Hosney followed his gaze to see a man in his mid-40's in a emerald green 1961 Austin-Henley 3000 Mk II convertible sports car.

Mr. Hosney: "Nnnnh." He groaned before he nodded. "Yeah."

(YN): "That's my uncle. He's the guy in the green car." He pointed out. "Let me tell you about a dream? A boy's dream. After my cousin Sam left, i didn't have anything to motivate me. Then my uncle came to me and looked me in the eye. He said, "(YN), I'm gonna by you car. But I need you to bring me two thousand dollars and three A's." Okay? I got the two thousand dollars and I got two A's. Okay?" He held his hands up together. "Here's the dream. Your B-Minus." He made an explosion noise and copied his noise with his hands. "Dream gone." He stood up and took a deep breath. "Please, Mr. Hosney. Let me ask you: what would Jesus do?"

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Outside of the school, Ronald Witwicky sat in the car as he waits for his nephew to come out. He was wondering if (YN) did get that A he had asked to.

(YN): "YES!" He cheered excitedly as he ran over to his uncle, jumping into the car.

Ron: "So?" He asked.

(YN): "Check it! Three A's!" He answered, flashes him the marked paper. "Well, the last one is an A-Minus, but it's still an A though!"

Ron: "Wait, wait, wait. I can't see." (YN) handed the paper to him and he checked over it, seeing the bold and red 'A-' on the report. "It's an A." He confirmed and put the paper down.

(YN): "So I'm good?" He asked.

Ron: "You're good." He reassured, starting the car and drove away from the school.

Fifteen minutes of driving through downtown, Ron began to slow down, shooting his looks from the corner of his eyes.

Ron: "I got a little surprise for you, kid." He claimed. (YN) turned to him in confusion and furrowed his brow.

(YN): "What kind of sur-" He trailed off when he saw the numerous flashy Porsche cars.

Ron: "Yeah, a little surprise." He muttered as drove up the small ramp towards the car dealers.

(YN): "No..." He muttered in disbelief before he was now ecstatic. "No, no, no, NO! UNCLE RON!" He exclaimed in excitement, pushing up onto his knees to peer at the expensive cars. "Oh, are you serious?! You've got to be kidding me!" He beamed.

Ron: "Yeah, I am. You're not getting a Porsche." He laughed at the sight of his nephew, driving away from the Porsche dealership. And just like that, (YN) dropped back into his seat.

(YN): "You think that's funny?" He asked, clearly mad.

Ron: "Yeah, I think it's funny." He snickered.

(YN): "That wasn't funny." He scowled, giving Ron a hard glare. "You think that's hysterical? What's wrong with you?"

Ron: "You think I'd really get you a Porsche? For your first car?" He argued, amusement clear in his voice. (YN) crossed his arms, turning away from him. "I can't believe you seriously thought of that."

(YN): "I am NOT talking to you for the rest of this thing, even after we get home." He snapped.

Ron: "Oh, come on." He reached over to elbow (YN) playfully in the arm. "It's just a practical joke." He said, still laughing. (YN) just huffed.

Soon, they pulled up into a used car dealership with a clown holding up a sign at the entrance. Then a old yellow 1970's Camaro drove up behind them, passing by without them seeing, and it had no driver. When they parked, they got out of the car and look at the various vehicles. But as they looked around, all the cars were either models of a bygone era, cars nobody would look at, styles that were out of fashion, or just plain-old broken, worn-out, useless, and leaking from every place in the engine bay, and that they cost 4 grand or less.

The owner of the dealership was an African-American in his late 30's, with a black shirt with gold stripes and a woven fedora hat, who was standing at the door of his office.

Owner: "MANNY!" He screeched.

Manny: "What?" He yelled back, annoyed.

Owner: "Get your cousin out of that damn clown suit, he's having a heat stroke again." He said, pointing at the clown. "Scaring white folk."

Clown: "I'm hot! Makeup's melting! It hurts my eyes!" He complained as the makeup was dripping down his face from the heat.

(YN): "Here?" He demanded. "No, no. Uncle Ron, you said half a car, not half a piece of crap. I mean, look at this!" He gestured to an 1970 Ford LTD in the front of them with a huge dent in the side of it. "This thing isn't even road legal! How did this pass?!"

Ron: "When I was your age, I'd have been happy with four wheels and an engine." He retorted plainly to (YN).

(YN): "Okay, let me explain something to you. Okay? You ever see 40-year-old virgin?" He questioned.

Ron: "Yeah." He nodded, looking from him to the cars.

(YN): "Okay," He gestured to the dented 1980 Toyota Corolla Wagon. "that's what this is." Then he gestured at a dilapidated 1965 Plymouth Belvedere. "And this is 50-year-old virgin. You want me to live that life? Hm?"

Ron: "(YN), remember. No sacrifice-" He started the family motto.

(YN): "-No victory." He finished with Ron. "Yeah, I know. I get it, the old Witwicky motto." He sighed.

Owner: "Gentleman." (YN) and Ron both turn to see him walked up to them. "Bobby Bolivia, like the country except without the runs." He introduced himself as he shook hands with Ron. "How can I help?"

Ron: "Well, my nephew here" He put his hand on (YN)'s shoulder. "is looking to buy his first car." He explained.

Bobby B: "You come to see me?" He asked in shock.

(YN): "I had to." He muttered under his breath.

Bobby B: "That practically makes us family." He claimed. "Uncle Bobby B, baby." He held out his hand for (YN). "Uncle Bobby B."

(YN): "I'm (YN)." He shrugged awkwardly as he shook Bobby's hand.

Bobby B: "(YN). Let talk to you, man-to-man." He wrapped an arm around (YN)'s shoulder as he led him around the car lot. "Your first enchilada of freedom awaits underneath one of those hoods." He pointed out to the three different cars lined up, then turned back at (YN).

However, none of them noticed the yellow Camaro drove between them, coming to a stop.

Bobby B: "Let me tell you something, (YN). The driver don't pick the car. The car picks the driver." He smirked, as dose (YN). "It's a mystical bond between man and machine. Son, I'm a lot of things, but a liar's not one of them. Especially not in front of my mammy." He pointed across the way to a house neighboring the dealership. "That's my mammy."

There were a few elderly sitting out on lawn chairs underneath umbrellas in the green grass.

Bobby B: "Hey, Mammy!" He waved. The woman in a blue dress on the right gave him a middle finger in response. "Awwwww, don't be like that. If I had a rock, I'd bust your head, bitch." (YN) raised his eyebrows at this. "I tell you, she's deaf, you know?" He chuckled hysterically. "Over here," He then brought (YN) towards the cars. "every piece of car a man might want or need."

(YN) takes notice of a yellow 1977 Chevrolet Camaro Z28. It is in yellow with black racing stripes, though the paint is faded, with some areas showing bare metal and rust, though the interior looks better. There are Cargar SS wheels up front, and Eric Vaughn rear wheels in the back.

(YN): "This one ain't bad." He dragged his left hand across the roof of the car. "It's got racing strips, maybe some power under the hood." He mused, looking around, now taking note of the marine-grade vinyl seats and the fresh leather interior of the muscle car. "Clean interior, too..."

Bobby B: "Yeah. It's got racing-..." He then stopped when he notices the muscle car too. "Yeah, what this? What the heck is this?" He pondered. (YN) stuck his head inside the car to get a better look. "I don't know nothin' about this car. MANNY!" He yelled.

Manny: "What?!" He replied, jogging out of the garage.

Bobby B: "What is this?" He inquired demandingly. (YN) gets into the driver's seat. "This car! Check it out!" He gestured to the Camaro.

Manny: "I don't know, boss! I've never seen it!" He interjected, waving his shop towel in the air. "That's loco!"

Bobby B: "Don't go Ricky Ricardo on me, Manny! Find out!" He ordered, he and Manny yelling at one another incoherently.

(YN): "Hey, not bad." He commented, gripping the wheel. "Feels pretty good." He noticed some smudge on the horn in the center of the wheel, so he wiped his thumb across it, now revealing a odd metal insignia in a shape of a futuristic face with the eyes slanted slightly downward on the horn. "Huh? What's this?" He wondered as he stared at the insignia, almost like it's staring back at him.

Ron: "How much?" He asked Bobby.

Bobby B: "Well..." He tapped the top of the car as he took a look. "Considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle, with the slick wheels and the custom paint job-"

(YN): "I do like the paint, but it's faded." He pointed out. Bobby leaned down to look at him in the eye.

Bobby B: "Y-Y-Yeah, but it's custom." He argued.

(YN): "I see. Aside from the faded paint, interior looks to be brand new." He noted.

Bobby B: "Well, it's your first car. I wouldn't expect you to understand." He stood to his full height and looked back at Ron. "Five grand." He wagered.

Ron: "No, I'm not paying over four." He declined, shaking his head. "Sorry."

Bobby B: "Kid," He leaned in the passenger window again. "come on, get out. Get out of the car." He beckoned to (YN)

(YN): "What? No, no, no. You said cars pick their drivers." He protested.

Bobby B: "Well, sometimes they pick a driver with a cheap-ass uncle." He interjected, before he jabbed his thumb behind him. "Out the car." He ordered, tapping on the window frame.

(YN) sighed as he exits the Camaro. He took another look at the insignia on the steering wheel for a moment, raising an eyebrow as he dose so, then gets out of the car. Bobby then clears his throat.

Bobby B: "Now this one here for four G's, is a beaut." He called out, now opening a door to the Volkswagen Beetle next to the Camaro, and climbed in.

Ron: "There's a Fiesta with racing stripes over there." He suggested, pointing across the lot.

(YN): "No, Uncle Ron. I don't want a Fiesta with racing stripes." He grunted in frustration.

Bobby B: "This is a classic engine right here." He continued, closing the Beetle's driver door. "I sold a car the other day-" He didn't get to finish when (YN) shut the Camaro door disappointedly and the passenger door suddenly swing open with a loud honk, slamming into the side of the Beetle, and knocking it back into a shelf of kegs and a closed oil drum, shaking him about.

(YN): "I didn't do it!" He spoke up in defense.

Ron: "Geez. Holy cow." He said in a shocked tone. "You alright?" He asked, walking around the car to the other side to help.

Bobby B: "No, no, no. No worries." He reassured as he managed to climb out the passenger window. "I'll get a sledgehammer and knock this right out." He turned to the garage again. "Hey, hey, Manny! Get your clown cousin and get some hammers and come bang this stuff out, baby!" He laughed loudly.

Suddenly, unbeknown to the humans, the Camaro started to function strangely. The radio dials were turning on their own as it began to pick up in volume and decibels.

Bobby B: "That one's my favorite!" He said, pointing to another car and walked over. "Drove all the way from Alabammy!"

All of a sudden, a loud, high pitched noise burst out from the Camaro, so powerful, it caused all the windshields and windows of every car on the lot to suddenly shatter in to pieces, except for itself. Bobby fell to his knees, ducked, and covered, while Ron shields (YN) from the glass, the two of them down on the ground as the car alarms ring out. They stay hunkered down, just as the high pitched sound and the alarms go off. (YN) and Ron slowly sit up, shaking the glass off their backs as they look at one another in surprise.

(YN): "What just... happened...?" He muttered in shock.

Bobby slowly stood up as pieces of glass fell off his shoulders. He gasped in shock and in horror at what just happened to all the cars in his car lot. He realized that the Camaro was no ordinary car and has to get rid of it or his business is ruined. He then spun back around to the Witwicky's and changed the price of the Camaro.

Bobby B: "Four thousand!" He declared, his voice cracked as he held up four fingers at them. "For the stripes..."

To Be Continued...