Short Story: The Big Blue Volvo

When I was sixteen, I had a big blue Volvo. It was a piece of shit, in that it was ancient, with 200,000kms on the clock. The paint all scratched, it’s iridescence no longer really shining, but it was great too. It was virtually bulletproof and I wasn’t much more than a learner-driver. I thought I was bulletproof too.

One day, driving down the hill, at p…