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the_water_clockAuthor: Clio
Title: So Much Depends Upon a Blue Honda Civic
Pairing: American Idol: Ryan Seacrest/Simon Cowell
Rating: G
Summary: Simon understands that cars are memories.
Length: 200 words
Disclaimer: People sort of own themselves, don't they? Which means this is a work of fiction.
Notes: I've been organizing fic today and in my travels I came across this double drabble that I'd never posted. It will likely become part of a later Rymon fic, but I may as well post it as is—though it probably should have a warning for fluffiness. Title adapted from the William Carlos Williams poem.
so much depends upon a blue honda civic
My clearest memory from that day is that my car wouldn’t start.
I had driven out from Atlanta to Los Angeles in my college car, a blue Honda that lasted much longer than it probably should have. Of course it would pick the morning of a meeting about being a judge on some reality show import from the UK to refuse to start. After twenty minutes of trying not to flood the engine, I finally lay my head on the steering wheel, wrapped my arms underneath it, and said, “Darlin’, if you get me to this meeting, I will never sell you.” I tried again, and the car started right up.
I got the job, though as host rather than judge, and the rest as they say is history.
I kept that promise. A few years later, Simon spotted the Honda in my garage and made fun of it until I told him this story. The next day I came home to see that the car, which I hadn’t driven in years, had been scrubbed and polished outside and in, and draped with the same car cover he uses for his Porsche. I guess it’s precious to him now, too.
Title: So Much Depends Upon a Blue Honda Civic
Pairing: American Idol: Ryan Seacrest/Simon Cowell
Rating: G
Summary: Simon understands that cars are memories.
Length: 200 words
Disclaimer: People sort of own themselves, don't they? Which means this is a work of fiction.
Notes: I've been organizing fic today and in my travels I came across this double drabble that I'd never posted. It will likely become part of a later Rymon fic, but I may as well post it as is—though it probably should have a warning for fluffiness. Title adapted from the William Carlos Williams poem.
so much depends upon a blue honda civic
My clearest memory from that day is that my car wouldn’t start.
I had driven out from Atlanta to Los Angeles in my college car, a blue Honda that lasted much longer than it probably should have. Of course it would pick the morning of a meeting about being a judge on some reality show import from the UK to refuse to start. After twenty minutes of trying not to flood the engine, I finally lay my head on the steering wheel, wrapped my arms underneath it, and said, “Darlin’, if you get me to this meeting, I will never sell you.” I tried again, and the car started right up.
I got the job, though as host rather than judge, and the rest as they say is history.
I kept that promise. A few years later, Simon spotted the Honda in my garage and made fun of it until I told him this story. The next day I came home to see that the car, which I hadn’t driven in years, had been scrubbed and polished outside and in, and draped with the same car cover he uses for his Porsche. I guess it’s precious to him now, too.
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