The Car: Genre Undetermined

They found the old Ford buried deep in the woods, its fenders dull and its body half-eaten away by the forest. Between the dirt that caked the antique car and the holes in the body that little trees grew threw, it looked like it was part of the forest, as if some strange and unique sort of fungus had decided to plop down in the middle of their forest. How it ever got there, they never did figure out (not until they got it running and learned a nit about how it traveled), since it was miles away from even the roughest dirt road. It would have, as Ginnie said, had to drive through some 100-year-old oaks and a lake in order to get to where it was, and that just wasn't things cars did. Or at least, it wasn't things that cars did these days. Cars were strictly rationed with gasoline so scarce and bio-diesel so expensive, and the flying cars all had magnets that kept them on their assigned paths. Ginnie's dad was a mechanic, so we all figured that she probably knew a little about how things like that worked. Ginnie'd decided that she wanted to be a mechanic, too, and so she was cramming heavy in the computer science and physics classes at the school, trying to get up on it all enough that she could debug a driver AI or figure out how to fix a faulty part instead of just installing a sealed box and then shrugging her shoulders when it went wrong, like most mechanics did. She wanted to be an artist.


Inspiration: http://www.flickr.com/photos/kiekmal/9573779707/
Story potential: Low
Notes: Cool photo, lousy story idea.