The Exploder

Once upon a time, there was an SUV.

And this SUV was no ordinary SUV, no.

Forged from the fires of the auto factory that churned out cars on a daily basis, welded together with the promises of years of drivability, he was taught from the second he was made to love his driver. As he passed down the assembly line, feeling himself be built part by part with foreign hands snapping parts onto his frame, this SUV was officially born.

He was a 2005 Ford Explorer with a shimmering silver coat all over his metal frame and a black underbelly. His tires were treaded and brand new as he spent his days in the showroom in rural Florida, anxious to put some wear into them. This car shined brightly for everybody who strolled through the dealership. He longed to be bought – to be driven, to feel the wind through his grill and the bugs squish into his windshield.

This Explorer was happy. He always looked on the bright side of things. If a day passed where nobody paid him any mind or even looked in his direction, he didn’t think much of it. There was always a brand new day ahead of him, and that was all that mattered.

He always smiled at whoever walked past him. It was a big old toothy grin that made him look proud and boastful of his qualities, too. He was absolutely sure somebody would be swayed by that grin. His headlights had sparkled in the fluorescent lighting of the showroom, adding a sense of genuineness to his mug, and if he wasn’t explicitly told to stay still while humans were around, he’d be waving his tires at the bystanders as well.

The other cars parked around him weren’t nice to this Explorer, though. They called him names, relentlessly chipping away his self-esteem like it was nothing but a hard-boiled egg on the verge of being crushed into a smelly batch of egg salad. They addressed him as “Fatty,” or “Stupid,” and sometimes even, “Lard Bumper.” He didn’t listen to them after a while, but for some time, it hurt. He never thought of himself in that way. He always thought he was just another car – another car who wanted a driver.

While he sat in the showroom, he dreamed of long road trips across the country. Rides to the beach, to Grandma’s house, to amusement parks and county fairs. Being splashed with rain in a hurricane downpour. Getting a tan in the summer sun, baking on the inside and seeing his humans yell in pain when they grabbed the seatbelts. Resisting the urge to sneeze after being caked in an inch of pollen. Being pelted with leaves and acorns as fall swung around.

That was the life this Explorer always wanted.

And for the longest time, he could only dream of it happening. Months passed and he spent his days yearning for more, watching the showroom bullies get rolled out of the dealership like kittens and puppies getting adopted by rambunctious children. He grew weary and nervous for the future for the first time in his life. He was alone. Sad. He needed a driver more than ever.

But one day, the Explorer got his wish.

A short, bald man in a ballcap and a Jacksonville Jaguars t-shirt shuffled in the showcase, looking around curiously at all of the vehicles the location had to offer. The Explorer put on his game face, smiling wholeheartedly at the man. He even considered beeping at him, but then he realized that that would be just a little creepy.

He knew he was desperate. The lonely SUV had nothing to lose, and so he didn’t care too much. So what if the other cars kept on calling him names behind his back?

He began to lose a little bit of hope as the man talked with one of the salesmen. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but his pessimism accumulated over the months was telling him that they were talking about how fat, stupid, ugly and useless he was. He tried to keep a bright outlook on the situation, but as the minutes passed, that optimism faded.

But the man, accompanied by the loud salesman who watched all of the cars day to day, walked casually through the group of vehicles scattered throughout the showroom. He stopped to look at each one, scanning their interiors carefully, examining their size and stability. The Explorer held his breath when he arrived in his vicinity.

Minutes passed. The forgotten Ford could feel eyes trailing over his frame, staring at his taillights and through his windows. Silently, he hoped his tires weren’t shaking noticeably enough to deter this man away from him. This was the closest he’d ever been to approval – if the man walked out of this dealership with another car in mind, the SUV would have to put his windshield wipers to good use and bawl his wiper fluid out.

“Seems good,” the man finally spoke, shrugging. “I can use it for work later on once my other car dies. Looks like it’s big enough.”

The SUV could feel his headlights double in size in disbelief. Was he going to be bought once and for all? Was all this time spent waiting for a savior worth it?

Would his dream finally come true?

After shaking hands with the salesman, the small man left with paperwork in his hands. Instantly after the door closed behind both of them, the room began to burst with curious chatter erupting from the Explorer’s peers. The Mustang was laughing about how he’d only gotten considered out of pity; the Focus was reminding everybody how she was still better than them all; the Ranger was growling in jealousy.

This SUV was finally proud of himself. Something had gone right in his boring and stagnant life, and he just couldn’t wait to experience the wide world at his hubcaps.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He couldn’t wipe the foolish grin off of his grill. He made sure his Ford emblem was shining brighter than a 4th of July firework and his paint job was perfect and free of cracks. Today was the day he was finally getting escorted out of the dealership and into his brand new home – otherwise known as the day all of his dreams would finally come true.

The man returned to the showroom, this time in a Navy t-shirt. The salesman spoke with him for a moment and gave him the keys, but not before leading the Explorer out of the big room into the even bigger world. As he rolled along slowly, the SUV was giddy with excitement. There was a mix of anxiety, fear, and happiness coursing through his oil pipes, the pistons in his engine pumping away fiercely.

And when he got his first taste of absolute freedom, he couldn’t have felt happier.

When the man took the driver’s seat and put him in drive, the fear began to evaporate. The SUV felt something right at that moment. Was it…was it excitement? No, he’d had enough of that. Could it be…fulfillment?

The Explorer rolled out of the parking lot, feeling his steering wheel being twisted and turn signal being switched on. Asphalt crunched in between the tread of his tires. It hurt at first, but the sharp pain gave way to simple roughness. He was getting used to this feeling already. This was the exact moment he’d been waiting his entire life for.

Halfway out into the street, waiting for the perfect moment to turn, potential energy at its highest. The Explorer wanted so badly to just zoom out into the left lane, burning rubber and gasoline, letting sparks fly in the road, but he knew that wouldn’t be smart. After all, he wasn’t the one behind the wheel anymore.

The man hit the gas pedal as a break in traffic was visible. They lurched onto the highway, the radio blaring and the wind blasting through the rolled-down windows. The Explorer never felt a feeling that was as grand as that one. It was the first of much acceleration he’d experience, but nothing could ever top that first one.

As Explorer flew down the highway with his new driver at the wheel, his smile grew bigger. He felt like he was flying – like he’d just spontaneously grew wings and lifted off the ground, soaring into the baby blue sky of Florida. He’d heard stories from some of the used cars on the lot about being driven. He knew it was exhilarating. But somehow, he always knew that a story could never hold a candle to the real thing. And after experiencing this high for the first time in his happy life, Explorer knew in his heart that this was what he was born to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The man gave Explorer his first name, and later on his second name. But as for the first few years of Explorer’s life, he was known simply as the Silver Bullet.

Silver Bullet met another car that his new family had. He was a 2001 Ford F-150 pickup truck, painted in a distinct shade of burgundy red with a gold trim. Over his grill, he had what looked like a unibrow. Despite this silly attachment, the truck had a permanent expression of pride and manliness that Silver Bullet found a bit intimidating.

The first night he spent at his new home, Silver Bullet slept next to him, but not without a few welcoming words. “Uh…hello. My name Silver Bullet. What are yours?”

“Truck.”

“That your name? Truck?” he spoke slowly, perplexed.

“Yes, that is my name. Just Truck,” the other car answered. “You must be new here. I heard the humans talk about you.”

“Awww, they talk about me? That cool,” Silver Bullet blushed, feeling giddy with the news. “No one ever talk about little old me in nice way. They mean.”

Truck stared off into space, his brow furrowed. He wouldn’t admit it, but Truck was still a bit sore over losing his best friend, Windstar. She was so old that they had to get rid of her, but Truck would never forget her – for a minivan, he always thought she was still pretty cool. And he wasn’t about to have the humans replace her with some new car.

“Is you mad? Silver Bullet no want make mad Truck. Silver Bullet want Truck to be friend.” Silver Bullet put on a sheepish little smile, trying to thaw the cold oil surrounding Truck’s engine.

Truck turned to the new car, but didn’t wear any emotion on his grill. “We’ll see.”

Silver Bullet’s engine swelled with joy. It wasn’t a definite approval of their friendship, but it was a start.

~~~~~~~~~

The Silver Bullet was a tool in teaching the humans’ son to drive. The boy was fifteen and of ripe age to be learning how to pilot a car, and the humans believed that Silver Bullet was a good vehicle to teach him how to.

Silver Bullet was nervous. For his little life so far, he’d only been driven by the middle-aged man who had experience driving. He didn’t want his life to be cut short by a careless kid behind the wheel.

Still, he cooperated. And even though the kid almost rear-ended a few cars, the Silver Bullet remained unscathed for a while.

But Silver Bullet didn’t like the kid as much as he would have liked to. The boy gravitated more toward Truck, who was there longer than Silver Bullet was. It made sense – he got the hand-me-down, the old vehicle that wouldn’t serve much of a purpose had it stayed in the hands of the older man.

“So you is drived by the boy now?” Silver Bullet asked Truck one fine day in early 2008.

Truck smiled smugly. “Yes sir. You jealous?”

Silver Bullet stared at the driveway a moment before answering. “…Silver Bullet not jealous. Me not like kid anyway.”

Silver Bullet spent most of his days doing just what he didn’t want to do – sit around. The boy learned to drive some more with Truck, taking off for school early in the mornings. However, Silver Bullet wasn’t so bothered by this after a while.

The man needed Silver Bullet for work, driving around and fixing copiers and fax machines. He needed Silver Bullet to carry the parts, and that’s exactly what he was put to use for. And day after day, Silver Bullet rode the roads once more with his favorite driver behind the wheel, doing just what he was put on earth for.

He noticed something, though. He wasn’t too keen on details, and he wasn’t a very bright little SUV, but Silver Bullet…he realized that the humans weren’t calling him Silver Bullet anymore.

It all started with the man. On the weekly rides to the navy commissary, the boy and girl would ask which vehicle they were going to ride in. They never took Truck. Instead, the man would say, “We’re going in the Exploder.”

Silver Bullet was confused. Were they talking about him?

Maybe they were making fun of him. Maybe…maybe they were being mean…just like the cars in the showroom. He grew sad at this possible realization, talking less and less to Truck, who carried on just fine.

One night, they were drifting off to sleep in the driveway. It was a hot summer night in 2008 and crickets were chirping in the muggy air when Truck broke the silence.

“You know why they started calling you Exploder, right?” he said.

He shuffled in his daze, trying to come back to reality. “No. Silver Bullet no know why they call Exploder…me name Silver Bullet…”

Truck cackled. “Old Explorers used to flip over and explode. So they call you that because, um…” he trailed off, not wanting to call his only friend big, stupid, and clumsy.

Silver Bullet – or, Exploder as his brand new name now was – felt a smile inch across his grill. “Exploder an acrobat! Exploder can flip!”

“Um, yeah. Let’s go with that.” Truck went along with it. “And it’s a super manly name, too. Wish I had it.”

“No worry, Truck. Maybe you have man-like name someday too. Me not know,” Exploder proclaimed happily.

And although he had grown accustomed to being known as Silver Bullet, Exploder found himself content yet again with life after learning the rather tragic (not that he would understand) back story of his new name.

It was only a matter of time until he’d actually live up to that name, though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Truck left.

The boy human took Truck with him when he left for a big school with lots of people in it. Exploder knew in his engine that Truck would come back on holidays and some weekends, but that didn’t stop him from growing lonely.

He found it hard to be the only vehicle parked in the driveway. He didn’t have the company of that mahogany Ford, and he was the only car the humans had. He found himself exhausted day after day when he came home from work with the man after being driven to edges of town that he didn’t know even existed. Nearly every day, Exploder was driven. And soon enough, he was driven into the ground.

Sure, he had more space in the driveway for when he needed those few extra inches. (He put on a few pounds from drinking too much oil.) And sure, he didn’t have to listen to Truck jabber on about football or baseball or other manly activities the humans observed. And sure, Truck wasn’t waking him up at 6:45 in the morning to drop the boy off at school.

But Exploder was lonely. He didn’t like to admit it, but he was.

The weeks shuffled past as autumn swung around. Day after day, it was all the same routine. Drive the man around to work and come home unfulfilled with nobody to talk to. Exploder was sad.

And Truck even dropped by once in the fall when school was in. The boy came home on a weekend and Truck talked Exploder’s side mirror off about college girls and college football and all the other things that didn’t really peak his interest, but Exploder nodded along anyway, pretending to be interested. It was nice just to have someone to talk to.

But when Truck left again – and especially when Truck left after winter break – Exploder grew even unhappier with his unfulfilled life.

2009 was an uneventful year for poor old Exploder. It was more of the same to him – Truck stopped by every so often and even for the whole summer. And what broke Exploder’s greasy engine was when Truck told him he had issues with acceleration.

“I shake every time I get up to speed,” Truck spoke sadly. He didn’t make headlight contact with Exploder, but he didn’t mind. He knew the reason why.

“Tell boy to take you to a hooman that fix cars,” Exploder suggested. It was really the only thing he had to say to Truck.

“The man’s talking about replacing a bunch of my parts. But that might not go well,” Truck whimpered. Exploder could tell he truly was scared. “I don’t want to have to go through that.”

“Truck could always crash into tree. End pain. Might be good for Truck,” Exploder said aimlessly.

Truck just gave him a look of bewilderment. “I don’t wanna kill myself, Exploder. Then what’ll the boy do?”

And so the summer went by and Exploder and Truck parted ways yet again. Exploder became even lonelier than ever now that his only friend had, yet again, left. And this time, he was uncertain over whether or not he’d ever see Truck again.

But as Exploder waited, good things happened. The man ended up being able to fix Truck. Truck had a leak in his water pipe and had to undergo major surgery – Exploder cringed just hearing about it – but it ended well. Truck was alive and well and healthier than ever.

Nonetheless, 2009 flew by and the man had issues with Exploder when it came to his work. The company he worked for couldn’t afford to pay for Exploder’s constant need for gas, so the man was issued a company car instead.

At first, Exploder was more excited than a cat with a ball of yarn. He’d have somebody to talk to! A brand new friend! He couldn’t find anything wrong with it.

And this new car was a Toyota Matrix. It was a foreigner – something that Exploder, a Ford, wasn’t used to. He was apprehensive, but anxious, still.

This new car was covered from roof to tires in company advertising. Red and white plastered its outside, with words like “Tekno Force” clearly displayed across his hood. He was a tiny little car, too, such a lightweight. When Exploder first saw him, he couldn’t believe his headlights – he thought he was just a baby, perhaps lost and looking for his real home.

And as the car drove into the driveway with the man behind the wheel, Exploder, wearing a face of concern, asked, “Where you parents, little car?”

The man got out, looking disgruntled. It had to be cramped in a car like that.

The new addition to the driveway responded with, “Shut up, old fart.”

Exploder aimlessly sniffed the air. “…Exploder no fart…”

“What’re you, stupid?” he taunted again.

“Exploder special. Man tell me so.”

“Special-ed, maybe.” The smaller, more fuel-efficient car sneered and turned away. “Don’t talk to me. You’re making me look like a loser.”

Exploder was experiencing something he hadn’t felt in years. Nobody had called him dumb since his days in the showroom down in Green Cove. It was a shocking journey back to earth as the new car’s vitriolic remarks sunk into his interior. He’d just been bullied.

Nothing could make Exploder miss Truck more. Not only had his hopes for a brand new friend been shot down, the man only drove Exploder on weekends now. During the week, all Exploder could do was sit in the driveway and sleep, festering in his own puddle of motor oil and depression.

Tekno, the mean car who never went a day without insulting Exploder, was a feisty little vehicle. Whenever he sped up quickly, he never went “vroom vroom” like all the cars Exploder knew. Tekno, instead, went “zoom zoom.” Exploder couldn’t figure out why, so he asked him one day.

“Why you no go vroom? Is you broke?” he questioned.

“No, loser. It’s because I’m small and attractive, unlike you,” Tekno spat. “Smaller cars are better for the environment.”

“What are a ‘in-vi-roh-mint’?” Exploder asked again.

“Apparently, a word you can’t pronounce,” Tekno laughed.

Day after day, Tekno’s words only scarred poor Exploder more. The insults seemed to permeate his aluminum exterior with such ease that it scared him. Was this the life he was destined to live? Only waking up each morning to face another day of relentless bullying from Tekno?

Exploder sunk into a despair that he couldn’t pull himself out of. He no longer felt like driving anymore, to feel the wind sweeping over his frame like he used to long for. It didn’t seem like it was worth it if he only came back to be insulted more by the only other car he knew.

He had gotten into the habit of overheating. Driving for longer periods of time would only lead to Exploder becoming exhausted, which set off an alarm in the cabin. The humans inside would begin to worry and pull over, inspecting poor Exploder to find out what was wrong.

The pain for Exploder was overbearing. He was hurting, inside and out. Tekno never cared, and because of this, Exploder’s engine could only spiral downwards into hopelessness as he carried on what were expected to be his last days.

The humans refrained from driving Exploder. Truck returned home for that 2010 summer again, but Exploder was in no mood to chat it up with him. Tekno minded his own business, except when he was feeling particularly snippy and insulted Exploder again. To everyone’s surprise, Truck stuck up for Exploder. He was silently thankful for this, as it eased the tension even if it was only miniscule.

The humans noticed Exploder’s deterioration and took him to a mechanic. And after that miraculous visit, things seemed to be working magically.

Exploder’s engine was near dead. It seemed like a miracle, but the mechanic was able to work his magic and being Exploder back to life, making him feel brand new and fresh off the assembly line.

And with this experience, Exploder began to rethink things. It had been so long since he was able to look on the bright side of things, but now he was able to again. He could appreciate being driven gratuitously (and he was, as the humans drove him to New York that summer!).

He had spent so long crying over how he had no friends that it never occurred to him just how beautiful his life truly was. So what if Truck wasn’t always there? So what if Tekno was rude? That didn’t mean it was the end of the world. Exploder had nearly seen the end of the world, and he didn’t like it one bit.

And as he rolled out of that mechanic’s garage, feeling on top of the world and with the roads at his tires, Exploder breathed a content sigh of relief.

It had to have been a miracle.

And as the man drove Exploder back to the house to be parked in the driveway once more, Exploder couldn’t help but to exclaim, “EXPLODER HAPPY!” in the middle of the highway. Nobody heard it, but Exploder knew in his brand-new engine that it was true.

And as if the earth itself decided to work in favor for only him, Exploder was treated to some more exciting news: he’d be getting driven even more!

The human girl had gotten her learner’s permit. Yet again, just like with the boy, Exploder was a bit scared for his future knowing that his life was now in the hands of an inexperienced driver. However, he decided not to dwell on that. What mattered was that he had a brand new life ahead of him and a new driver behind the wheel – a fresh face that Exploder was more excited than ever to get to know.

And as she aged, growing more experience with how the road rules worked, Exploder became the happiest he was in a long time. As they tackled the streets with conviction and newfound youth, that grand old feeling of fulfillment surged through his pipes once more.

And every so often, when they traveled down to the navy base with music blasting from his stereo system, Exploder would exclaim with sheer glee, “EXPLODER LIKE BEING DRIVED!”