thoughtformed | [Sort-of Closed Log]

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[Sort-of Closed Log]

Who: Bro Strider & any unfortunate kids that decided they'd like to learn to drive. Also open to anyone who'd like a chat while he's waiting!
What: I think the 'who' pretty much explains the 'what', here. Clear the streets.
When: October 15th.

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[Were you one of those ~~poor unfortunate~~ lucky souls who agreed to take driving lessons from this guy? Don't worry, he's almost 100% sane when he's behind the wheel of a vehicle.

Almost.

He'll sound the horn to let whoever he's waiting for know he's there - maybe he'll send a text if he's waiting for too long - but when they come out they'll find him behind the wheel, tapping his fingers gently against it and idly nodding to a beat only he can hear.

Get right in, kid, the door's open.]

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[Dirk exits pretty promptly, definitely not an indication of the nervous anticipation he was not at all feeling. He did take a noticeable moment to observe the car; he'd done some research online once he'd resolved to do this, but he had never really looked at a car. They had just never ever registered as objects relevant to his life. Not a lot of cars in post-apocalyptic Texas, and he'd gotten used to walking during the six months he'd been exploring the planets of the Sburb session.

So he was partially checking for prior damage, just in case, and partially trying to take it apart in his head. He couldn't help but think he'd do better if he could just deconstruct the thing first to see how it worked.

Not particularly practical.

He approaches after only a minute or so of observation, casually sliding into the passenger seat.]

'Sup.

Yo.

[He'd pretended not to notice for the sake of the kid's dignity, but he'd seen him hanging back to examine the car. Couldn't blame him, really, he would have done the same thing and you can bet he gave the vehicle a thorough once-over before he even committed to buying it.

Had to be sure about these things, after all.

He pulls out, heading to the empty college car park and once there, switches the engine off.]

Any questions before you get behind the wheel?

[He adjusts his gloves, paying attention to how Bro's hands interact with the the array.]

Not at the moment. Let's do this.

[And then he pushes open the passenger side door so he can get out and switch.]

[Bro moves similarly, sliding out of the driver side door and moving around the car, dropping himself into the passenger seat and waiting for Dirk to get himself situated.

He makes a motion to the footwell.]

Clutch, brake, gas. You use the clutch to change gears. If you don't, the car won't like it, and I won't fuckin' like it either. [Who drives an automatic? Not this guy.]

Start her up, and we'll put her into first.

[the first time he doesn't hold it long enough for the engine to turn; he tries again and gets it right. His hand settle son the clutch at he looks askance at Bro]

Okay. How do we do that.

[He doesn't pass comment save for a single drumming of his fingertips against the side of his seat as Dirk takes two attempts to start the engine. At least he didn't stall the car.]

First, take the handbrake off. [He taps the handbrake with one fingertip then moves himself out of the way.] Then put your foot down on the clutch and move the gear stick into first gear. When you've done that, take your foot off the clutch and put it on the accelerator and press down. Gently.

[Bro gives him a small nod.] You got this.

[There's a moment of pause where Dirk takes a moment to be annoyed at himself for messing up, annoyed at Bro's praise, though he intellectually knows he's not trying to be condescending, and simultaneously pleased with Bro's encouragement.

And then before he can start spiraling down into what a messed up fuckjob he is, he follows Bro's directions, smoothly putting it in gear and inching the vehicle forward with a light touch]

Me and the handle. I could compose sagas to the tightness of our acquaintanceship.

Hah. Don't start gettin' cocky, kid.

[But he's grinning because god damn the tally of how many times Dirk reminds him of himself just keeps going up. Honestly, it was disturbing at first, but there's enough of a difference between them for him to find it genuinely intriguing.]

Next thing you know you're plowing into a ditch that wasn't there two seconds ago and it takes two recovery crews to haul you out. The driving instructor is traumatised and can never get behind the wheel again.

[And that is definitely not how his own first driving lesson went. Definitely not.]

Take it up to fifteen, let's see you make a turn.

I'm positive that is definitely not a situation which has ever happened to anyone with the surname of Strider.

[He's on to you, Bro. He's definitely losing a lot of the tentativeness from before. he's still not rushing, but the way he handles the truck is almost meditative, like he's considering it's weight, and the power of the engine, and how fast a turn he would need to make to get it up on two wheels without flipping it.

And things along that vein.

He takes this turn pretty smoothly, though]

[Bro can't really do anything but approve.]

You're a natural. You sure you ain't done anythin' like this before?

[Joking, of course. He knows Dirk hasn't.

And all he would have to do to know how fast to make that kind of turn is ask.]

[ In contrast to the above, Roxy is going to approach this car thing the natural way. Obviously they will know how to draw instinctively, no research necessary. Gut human instincts will kick in, driving is an evolutionary trait. Besides, that's the whole point of having a teacher- he'll tell her what to do.

Hops down the last step out of the building, walking towards the car and leaning forward against it, ducking her little face down to smirk through through passenger window. ]

Hey, good looking.

[ oh my go this was a mistake bro abort ]

'S up, Roxy.

[One eyebrow goes up briefly - he hadn't expected to see her, really - but there's no complaints. He smirks, pushing his shades up with the tip of one finger.]

You ready for this?

[ Right, she could've just been taught how to drive by the millions of other good looking driving instructors on the island. OH WAIT.

Smirks. ]

Hell yeah. Ready enough to drive this puppy off the lot. Scoot over.

[ Walking around the front of the car, making her way to the driver's seat. ]

Tch, not so fast.

[He jerks a thumb towards the passenger seat.]

Get in here. If you think I'm letting you take this baby out on the roads before you even know how to change gears you got another thing comin'.

[ Comes to a complete stop in front of the car. Little scowl at the driver. Debating throwing herself over the hood of the car and reenacting some sleezy music videos just to make a point. ]

You didn't even change the gears before I got here? Kidding, I'm kidding.

[ Waving it aside, slips back over to the passenger side and shuts the door with a little more force than necessary. Buckles up. Expectant look. ]

You aren't gonna take me on dumb old man errands are you? Like to the post office or the pipe shop or to get your shoes shined?

[ Please god yes. ]

[He gives her a long, skeptical look.]

Just how old do you think I am-- no, don't answer that.

[Rolling his eyes, he pulls out onto the road.]

Better question is what the hell decade do you think I'm from.

[ Little smirk, opens her mouth to reply how old she thinks- fussy little huff when he shuts her down. Leans back in her seat, stretching her legs out and yawning. ]

Unless you came by on a meteor of your own, gonna guess the same decade Davey's from.

[ Starts messing with the window on her side, pushing it up and down, paying more attention to the fast passing scenery than driving.

Where you guys still think global warming's your fault and Diners, Drive-in's and Dives is harmless.

You're kiddin', right? The Triple D is clearly some kind of mass brainwashing operation and I defy anyone to show me evidence to the contrary.

[He flashes a quick smirk in her direction.]

You gonna give me the 411 on that global warming comment or are you gonna make me guess?

[ Shrugs, tossing the smile back as she glances from the window. ]

Boring stuff. Troll overlords melt the ice caps, world's population either drowns or starves. So what's this do?

[ Eager to change the topic, reaches across the seat to adjust the windshield wipers. Kinda far to reach though, so Roxy puts down another hand on Bro's thigh to keep herself from falling face first in his lap, which would make this a lot worse, right? You can't blame me here. I'm sorry, you agreed to this Bro. ]

Not while I'm drivin', Roxy. Mother fuck. [He's quick enough to remove her hand from his leg, the other tightening around the steering wheel as he frowns in irritation.]

If this is gonna be another of your ill-conceived attempts to do whatever the hell it is you're always tryin' to do to me I can pull over right now and you can get out of the fucking car. We clear?

[ Sitting very still, mouth pressed in a thin line. Rude! It was an accident, mostly.

Hands at her sides, staring ahead resolutely. Quietly, ]

Yeah, got it. Hands to myself.

[ She doesn't get scolded like that very often- when you spent the first six months on the island getting obliterated drunk, teachers go pretty easy on a little (sober) bad behavior. Granted, she's not too handsy with her teachers (sigh! Coulson. she wishes) but the snap stings. ]

Sorry.

You got it.

[There's only so far that even someone like Bro Strider can be pushed before they snap, and Roxy's been pushing all the wrong kinds of buttons for far too long.

He drums his fingers once along the steering wheel.]

It's fine, kid. We're cool.

[ Watching Bro from the corner of her eye, but not saying anything. Trying to focus on the intricacies of driving rater than thinking there must be a million alternate universes out there and in none of them is she gonna have a boyfriend. Quiet for a few minutes.

Little huff, twists in her seat to face him. ]

Okay, left brake, right gas, and the middle stick is some kinda phallic thing. I get it, so can I please drive now?

[Crooked grin.]

You drive like an old man.

I could drive like a moron but I prefer not being arrested. Personal freedom's a real priority, y'no?

[Smirk. He's been deliberately taking her somewhere where she won't accidentally hit any other cars, which turns out to be a mostly abandoned industrial car park. Sorry, Rox, but you didn't really think he'd let you on the road just yet, did you?

He's not even qualified for this.]

You only hit two out of three. This ain't an automatic. What's the other?

Go stick.

[ She says it with enough confidence it might as well be called that, I mean, shift is a weird name, right. Big smile, Roxy can elaborate. ]

Cause you keep moving it between the numbers to go, and you can feel something in the car moving, so obviously if you didn't move them to different numbers- maybe because of like speed- we wouldn't go. Also if the opposite is automatic and that usually just means something happens without doing shit sooooo. Go stick.

[ Spots the empty parking lot, looks around a bit, craning her neck. ]

Are you taking me here to murder me? Cause I'm tough to kill, fyi.

Nice try, but you didn't answer the question.

[He leans back in his seat, tapping the top of the gear shift and arching one eyebrow in ]

Didn't ask you what this was called. Car's got three pedals, Roxy.

[Pulling up, he opens the driver side door.]

You'll pick it up. C'mon, let's see what you can do.

[The second school lets out Dave's already slamming the passenger's-side door closed behind him, book-bag tossed into the back, seatbelt clicked into place.]

When do I get to try?

[He keeps a fairly cool face, but he taps his hands against the seat, practically humming with excitement.

Fast car fast car gotta go fast]

When we're somewhere you won't be a menace to the general population.

[He grins over at the teenager, reaching over to ruffle his hair. Can't kid a kidder, bro, he knows how excited you are. No time wasted, he sets off.]

Just how insane did you send everyone talkin' about this today?

[He tries to duck away from the hand, but there's only so far he can get in the car, so he just takes it and doesn't even fuss to put his hair back in place, just shakes it out and fiddles with the radio.]

No more insane than they usually get from their exposure to too much awesome.

[Favorite radio station secured, Dave sits back in his seat again and rolls down the window so everyone can share in the musical wealth.]

Why, did you?

You kiddin'? They were threatening me with duct tape.

[Someone had said he was way too enthused for a guy who was teaching his kid how to drive. He'd had to fumble his way through that one in a very unStriderly manner.

Awkward.]

You got any questions for me before I trust you with this beautiful piece of engineering?

[Dave turns away from the window to glance at Bro, then looks at the gear used to make the car go. Wheel, pedals, rearview mirror, the thingie that changes the gears, the air vents...

He does have a question.]

When you say we're going somewhere away from the population--[He lifts an eyebrow.]--are you saying I can go as fast as I want.

Nice try, kiddo.

[He pulls into an industrial car park, cleared out for the day save for a few lingering trucks, and stops the car.]

I'm sayin' you can go as fast as I let you.

So, what, five miles an hour?

[Dave unclicks his seatbelt and looks at Bro expectantly.]

If you're lucky.

[He smirks and unbuckles his own seatbelt, stepping out of the driver-side door and moving around the car.]

C'mon, Dave. Hop to it.

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