Humping down the stairs and around the backyard, Pop, his cane waggling in front being used to scatter the beagle and the three strays more than for maintaining any semblance of balance, was headed toward the chariot… a ‘62 Valiant… and into the hayfields.
I raced beside him knowing there was no waiting.
Opening the door, I swung from the roof into the backseat.
“Wait!” I bellowed. My fingers had not released from the roof before Pop had slammed the door.
Exasperated, Pop opened and shut the door. Hard.
“Next time, get’ya whole self in.”
And off we went.
Written for The Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge. June 28, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that is a sketch or about a sketch. It can be “A Sketch of a Romance” or “The Sketch of Aunt Tillie.” Go where the prompt leads you to scribble.
It's All in Finding the Right Words 
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