Member-only story
The Day I Liberated The Musk Family Car
Elon lived up the road, or his folks did.
This is maybe five years ago. Cars were bleeding rust in driveways and a man could not be free.
They had what might have been a green station wagon. Old, dull with discolouration. I never got the make.
I needed that car. Surprised at how easily it came to me, I found myself planning to take it. That night, after eight, I’d ease it out of the driveway and drive it up to our old hometown and get the thing I needed to get, and in the morning I’d be back.
Old folks aren’t all that much to worry about.
There’s nothing really to say about the trip. Only, I’d never really noticed how Martian it all is out there once you hit the heartland. It’s probably just farmland, most of it, but never a field or camp or corral, just ruins every couple of miles or a small deserted whitewashed house with windmill or reservoir. Craggy hillsides, bleak red soil, and a post-rain stubble of dark green. Karoo lamb is the best in the world thanks to the wild, low bush and the fact that water is practically sacramental.
I knew he’d come looking for me, or maybe not. I mean, you didn’t really know him.
On arrival, I took the car to a parkade up the road over four levels. It was deserted but not closed off. We…
