The Adventures of Sylvie Sedan

By Ginger Gregory

Carmony - the essential bond between car and human - is in danger of being lost forever. Ginger and Sylvie are the keys to preserving carmony, but they must earn the right to run roads first. Fasten your seatbelt and let Sylvie Sedan take you on a ride of gasolears and laughs you'll never forget

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781942451235

Book preview

Prologue

My name is Sylvie Sedan, and I can honestly say I run faster than any human. I’m proud of my Japanese heritage, for I derive from the legendary family of Joyota. Japan is my birthplace. America is my home.

Like most American females, I dress to impress. I sport a shining silver coat each day with strawberry-scented perfume. Spa days send me spinning with sheer joy.

But looks only begin to describe me. I’m an athlete and, as I said, I will outrun you. My favorite track is in Tulsa, Oklahoma. The surface— usually—is smooth.

Ginger and I run together. Well, she rides, actually. I’m a car, so of course she doesn’t literally run with me.

We had to earn the right to run. The driving lessons, the drive test. And trust me, it wasn’t all that smooth. You’ll have to ride this one out to believe it.

So hop in—see the world through my eyelights.

I promise you this: you’ll never see cars—or the world—in quite the same way.

Part I

That Crazy Car Flipper

(Sylvie)

He thought he was a NASCAR driver under the springtime sun of Tulsa, Oklahoma. I felt my metal flesh would fly off without notice, exposing my engine bones.

Oh yeah, cruise control, baby! said Mr. Gassan. Today we start to part ways. I like you Joyota, but it’s time to get paid.

Screech! I halted at a red light. Tree branches robed in green extended their arms toward me. I wished I could give them a fist bump, but my door arms are a bit wide for that.

I like her voice, Mr. Gassan thought out loud.

Heard that one ten times today already. The light turned green— gone! I’m surprised a legion of cops weren’t surrounding us.

A few moments later, we pulled into the Shell station to meet my potential owner. But wait, she looks like she’s 12! She wore a lime-green polo shirt with white capris. I like her hair, too—bouncy dark-brown curls. Could she really be the one? We had already met six people this week. They all liked me, but they didn’t like Mr. Gassan’s price.

I hope this one doesn’t try to lowball—hi! Mr. Gassan quickly shifted tones at the sight of the girl beside my door arm.

Wow! she exclaimed, practically drooling over me. Mr. Gassan stepped out to meet her.

Hi, I’m Ginger, she said in a sweet, chipmunk-like voice. Mr. Gassan smiled. Oh, brother. Um, little age gap, my friend.

Gassan Ali, he said, shaking Ginger’s hand and then her mother Melody’s hand. They talked about my health for awhile—minor scars, hygiene, and age. I’m 84.

That is, 84,000 miles old. I’m silver, not gray.

Then Mr. Gassan offered to take them for a ride. I was so happy, but alarm leaped from Ginger’s eyes to her mom’s eyes.

They went anyway. I’m sure they trusted me, but a stranger who sells cars and secretly loves this girl’s voice?

My eyelights saw their concern.

Mr. Gassan didn’t even pretend to obey the speed limit. He put me on cruise control and took off. The sun swirled orange and yellow across a darkening canvas of sky. The moment Ginger stepped into me, I knew she was the perfect owner. She paid attention to the world’s bountiful beauty at every turn. She didn’t scratch me with her feet. And I could likely learn to hear her voice—even when she was silent.

Um, where the heck are we? My eyelights flashed on after 10 minutes of rolling. Was he really going to bring them home?

Wh-where is he taking us?

I heard that so clearly! But how? She’s not even my owner, but yet…

Will I even stay alive long enough to buy this car?

Yes—don’t worry, Ginger! Somehow I felt the need to protect her. I haven’t known Mr. Gassan that long, but I know he’d better not hurt this girl!

Tulsa is filled with hills, and Mr. Gassan ran me onto a large one. My old owner loved hills too. He—no, I’m not going to run that mind road again. I’m healed on the outside and that’s all that matters I guess.

Few cars and humans ran or walked the streets and sidewalks. The sky moved closer to the color of my tire legs.

Ladies, are you wondering if I’ll take you home? No one spoke.

Of course I am! I just like to show off this car. This Sedan is special—they don’t make ‘em like they made this one anymore.

Ginger took a deep breath. I believe you, she said. But are you really going to take us home? Don’t play us now!

Haha, yeah he’d better!

After a long test run of 17 minutes, Mr. Gassan pulled me back into the Shell station. I sat next to their rental car—a little 2011 baby. The humans got out of me.

I really like this car, said Ginger. Melody nodded in agreement.

Do you want to buy it? asked Mr. Gassan.

Her, thank you very much. He obviously doesn’t get me. Yes! said Ginger.

So I just need a $100.00 deposit, and I guarantee that I won’t let anyone else buy the car.

Ginger grinned like the guy who gave my cousin away on Mr. Gassan’s favorite game show. She barely tried to negotiate my full price. And Ginger—I later learned—tries to negotiate every price! Wow, she really wants to adopt me! A gasolear (car tear) leaked from my exhaust pipe.

Bye, car. Bye, Mr. Gassan! said

Ginger. Bye. And I like your voice.

Did he really just say that out loud?

(Ginger)

So he didn’t back off of his price at all? asked my dad, Gavin.

No, Daddy, I said with a shrug. I started to ask him, but he said $5100 is a really good deal—and it is.

And what about the CARFAX report?

I can’t tell anything ever happened. At least not on the outside. Mama joined us in the living room. You’ll be happy about the proof Ginger got, Gavin.

I waited a moment to let the suspense build. I had him write a note saying that he received a $100.00 deposit, sign it, and let me keep it.

Daddy beamed. That’s my girl!

Thank God my grandmother left me some money for college. After two years, I’ve finally convinced Mama that a car is important for my education. I can live at home by driving—money saved and concentration earned.

I slept well that night. Tomorrow I would have a car. I wondered what her name should be as I drifted into dreamland.

She’s Adopted!

People were packed into the oval-shaped arena like crayons in a grand tin can. The cars were dominos, aligned and ready to topple into victory. Mama, Daddy, Aunt Diann, and my entire family cheered from the stands. Everyone grew silent as the announcer began to call names.

In lane 6, Danica Patrick. The crowd exploded like dynamite.

In lane 7, Ginger Gregory. The explosion was even louder this time.

I can’t believe I made it to the NASCAR championship. Danica Patrick flipped her hair like the triumphant racer/model that she is. I swallowed my saliva like medicine.

On your mark!

OMG.

Get set.

But I might throw up.

Go!

I can do this!

There goes numbers five and six. But wait—number seven is gaining speed. She’s approaching six. Faster, faster! Number seven has taken the lead! And with an ’02 Joyota Corolli? The crowd cheered continuously.

Ginger! Wake up! said Mama, hovering over me. I wiped the eye boogers from my face and rolled over to meet her gaze.

Wh-where are the cheering crowds? Did I win the championship? Mario, my miniature poochon (poodle/bichon frisé), could sense my disappointment. He bounced onto my bed to lick me.

Mama smiled. Ginger, Mario has been cheering for you—he wants unlimited rides to the park! Now are you ready to get your first car?

Yes! I said, suddenly forgetting about the race. As a girl, I usually take a while to get ready for anything, but I was out the door in 20 minutes.

Bye, Mario! I know you don’t want us to leave, but your future with the park is at stake.

(Sylvie)

Money, money, I love money / green hearts glow within my own / Lincoln, Jefferson, Benjamin / Brothers all my own!

Really? Come on, Mr. Gassan. Based on the songs I’ve sung, I can definitely create better lyrics than that.

Mr. Gassan danced from room to room with his vacuum cleaner for a partner. He swung her from side to side, making wide turns across the carpet. After the length of about three lights, he suddenly stopped.

Ay! I forgot to dust the living room.

He’s really serious about cleaning. I’m kind of surprised since I sported a thick interior coat of dust up to yesterday.

He finally stopped cleaning and peeked his head out of the small kitchen window.

My price isn’t cheap, but that girl is getting no ordinary car today. Eighty-four thousand miles? Joyota Corolli? Ha, if I weren’t saving up for a Ferrari I’d probably keep that baby.

Hey, I’m not a baby! I’ve run many tough roads already. And I had a name. I-I just can’t remember because of—that night.

But oh well, the time has come to flip this car like a coin!

Now he’s calling me a coin? Ginger! I need you to come rescue me. Now the house is ready. Surely they would love to come in for tea.

(Ginger)

With Mama and me in the rental car, we were off. We followed Daddy in his truck, Young Silver. I was holding a huge bank check. My hands vibrated with excitement as Mama drove down the road. The flowers swayed to the song of spring. The sun reclined high in the sky, almost as if it were a spectator ready to witness my glory. We quickly arrived at Shadybrook Apartments where Mr. Gassan lived.

Hello Ginger, Melody, and— Gavin.

Nice to meet you, sir. Would you all like to come inside for tea?

That’s sweet, but I just want my car!

I actually have to go straight to work after this, but thank you, said Daddy.

Wow, he really looks disappointed. Maybe Mama and I can come in for a few minutes, I suggested.

Mr. Gassan rubbed the bald spot on his head and smiled. He was wearing a bright-orange shirt with white flowers, khaki pants, and flip-flops.

I rarely wear orange, but today we matched.

Daddy’s face suddenly came under a spell of seriousness. Ginger, I don’t think that’s a good—

Gavin, we’ll be fine, Mama said.

My dad thought for a moment. Okay, but I’d like to see the title before I leave.

Mr. Gassan opened a briefcase I hadn’t noticed before. Here it is, sir. And just to erase any worries, my friend, I’ll let you take the title right now.

Daddy took the golden sheet from his hand. Well, that’s a bold move.

Yes, yes, I trust you. You are a Christian family, no? I find many of those here in Tulsa.

We are, but don’t trust everyone, my mom warned as she playfully waved a finger at him.

Of course—I am a car flipper. Sometimes shiny rims don’t shimmer.

Okay, am I missing something here? Are we going to be on the 10:00 news tonight?

And as a Christian, I’m not going to take this title yet. Here, said Daddy, handing the title back to Mr. Gassan. I just wanted to see it. We said good-bye to Daddy and followed Mr. Gassan upstairs. "I live on the third floor, ladies. We could have taken the elevator, but I

need exercise as you can see."

You look fine, Mr. Gassan, I said.

Why thank you, Ms. Ginger, he said, turning to smile at me. His

apartment was like nothing I had ever seen. He had strings of little lights dangling from the ceiling like a marketplace. A large chest labeled car sat in front of his couch like a coffee table. And his kitchen was filled with teas of every kind.

Wow, I said. You have quite a collection!

And your house is clean for a man. For anyone, really, Mama added.

You are both too kind. Please, do sit down at my kitchen bar, he said. What kind of tea do you like?

What do you suggest? You obviously have excellent taste in cars, so I trust your tea taste, I said.

Mr. Gassan stepped on the opposite side of the bar and rested his hands on the counter in front of us. Well, how about some ginger tea, Ms. Ginger?

Oooh, I’d love to try that!

"Would you like ginger tea as well, Ms.

Melody? She doesn’t like me," I joked.

How could you not like your own daughter? asked Mr. Gassan, raising his hands in disbelief.

I don’t like the tea—only the person. Green tea is fine.

The ginger tea tasted stronger than it looked. I usually eat and drink really slowly, but I was amped up about my new car and could not slow down.

Ginger, let your tea cool first. You don’t want to keep burning your tongue again and again.

Okay! I’m just so excited.

We small talked with Mr. Gassan for a while. And then he said something creepy.

You know I thought of kidnapping you both the other day. Mama and I set our tea cups down mid-sip. I remembered moves from my 6th-grade tae-kwon-do class.

But of course I dismissed the thought, Mr. Gassan continued. As the driver I had to focus on keeping you two safe, not on finding some hideout spot to hold a ransom. Plus, I would never do such a thing. I’m a nice guy, you see. Future family man.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I’m glad you didn’t kidnap us, I said. I’m only 18, and there are so many adventures to experience out there. On wheels.

Yes, I know. The adventures of a girl and her car. No, the adventures of a curly-haired girl with a cute voice. He rubbed his chin.

Didn’t he say something about my voice when I first met him?

My mom sat up in her chair. Mr. Gassan, you do realize you’re old enough to be Ginger’s father?

Of course, my friends, of course. I simply like to enjoy a sweet voice when I find one. Now, let’s get down to the exchange before I say too much.

Moments later, I exchanged my check (and $1,000 in cash, because Mr. Gassan wanted a little spending money) for a clean title to the car. He also gave us two car keys and a remote to the Pioneer sound system. Oh, and can you please sign this contract? I asked.

30-Day Warranty Agreement

If Ginger Gregory finds anything wrong with this 2002 Joyota Corolli within the first 30 days of ownership, I, Gassan Ali, agree to make the necessary repairs.

He signed the bottom of my self-made contract. Okay, there you are, Ginger! he said. Oh, and I should let you know that this is no ordinary sedan.

I raised my eyebrows. What does that mean?

Mr. Gassan smiled once more. Perhaps you will find out during the adventures you speak of.

We chatted a bit more before leaving.

Thank you all again, and if you need anything please call. It was official. I had just bought my first car!

Mama drove us straight to the car insurance office—wouldn’t want to go to jail as soon as I got my car.

Bargain Auto Insurance?

Your dad said we should try this place first.

I nodded. The small office sat wedged in a strip mall. Its neighbors didn’t look friendly. Can you park in front of the store this time so we can see my new car?

Bing-bong, said the door as we walked inside. A fish tank sat