Studying Cole

Cole didn't speak to me that much in the beginning. His appearance honestly offended me when I first started work at Acorn. He had long blond hair that hung nearly to his waist and he obviously didn't know what an acne treatment was but after a couple of weeks he warmed up to me and I to him. We would talk about video games and movies and nerdy things that other people at work didn't understand. Most of all, though, we would talk about cars.

I had a license. Cole didn't. I also had a car and Cole didn't. Cole's greatest dream at that age was having his own car, which is why he loved to talk to me and listen to me talk about the glories of the open road. He used to spend hours telling me exactly what color his car would be when he got it and what kind of engine it would have. He knew exactly what kind of oil he would feed that treasure of his and he vowed he'd never let anyone touch it.

Once he got a car, it'd be his and only his.

No one would ever have figured Cole for a motorhead. He was scrawny and had a weird laugh and he was years older than everyone in my graduating class but he still hung out with people younger than I was. He was that classic figure that failed at life – he was twenty-three, he lived with his parents, he refused to go to college, he'd worked at the Nut for four years, he played Dungeons and Dragons in his basement on the weekends and he'd never had a girlfriend.

Not exactly motorhead material, but Cole loved cars anyway.