Gentry's Gift - Classroom Fiction

“But, I’m only 9 years old?” Gentry said, staring at his father with amazement. He looked again past his dad where they both stood in the driveway at the shiny blue vehicle, which was situated just behind the family car. It sure is small, Gentry thought.

“Yes, 9 years old is just the age they say is best,” his father said, smiling widely and referring to the thick manual he was holding in his hands. “It says right here, ‘The beginner operator of the Ford Motors Kidz-Mobile is ideally a child of 9 years of age and can sufficiently ride a bicycle, although the ability to ride a bicycle is not necessarily required’. See? It says it right here.” Gentry’s father held the manual out for Gentry to read, but he barely saw the words on the page. He was still trying to wrap his brain around the idea.  “Dad. That’s a car. You’re giving me a car for Christmas? A car?”

Gentry’s dad laughed at the incredulous tone in Gentry’s voice and nodded vigorously, motioning to the small vehicle that looked decidedly out of place in the driveway with its diminutive size. Aside from the modern, aerodynamic appearance of the thing, it looked like a clown car. And Gentry had to admit: he felt like a clown staring at it. “Dad, kids can’t drive cars. It’s against the law.”

“Correction, my son,” his dad said, holding up his index finger like a professor, “WAS against the law. Times have changed, kiddo. Kids can drive cars. These cars, at least.” He once again motioned to the tiny car. Gentry stared from his dad…to the car…then back to his dad.

“Don’t worry, Gentry. It’s completely safe. It practically drives itself. And now we know why they’ve been constructing all of those new tiny, narrow roads all over town. You kids get your own streets.”

Gentry cocked one eyebrow high on his forehead, looking adequately skeptical, but also hopeful. “You mean, I can drive this to school?”

“You can drive it anywhere the road takes you! Oh, I almost forgot.” His dad reached into the pocket of his robe and his hand emerged holding a tiny plastic card. “When I ordered it for you, it came with your very own kid drivers license. Here you go.”

Gentry reached an unbelieving hand and took the card and noticed right away that it looked amazingly similar to his father’s own State drivers license. He also noticed it already had his image on it, a smaller version of his school photo. Before he’d taken another wary step toward the vehicle, a strange motorized sound approached and Gentry watched in disbelief as a car that looked eerily similar to his own zoomed by driven by what unmistakably had to be a child around Gentry’s age. Both he and his dad watched as the car passed and then turned down one of the tiny new roads just beyond the last house on their block. “Well. There goes Stanley. Looks like his dad bought him one, too.”

An hour later, Gentry found himself not only behind the wheel of his new car, but zooming along at a steady pace on one of the new streets, headed for his best friend’s house two miles away. “Leon is never going to believe this,” he thought, as he turned on the Bluetooth sound system and his favorite song blared from the speakers. He relaxed back in the seat and waved at another young driver who was headed in the opposite direction, a girl he recognized from school. “This,” he said, smiling from ear to ear, “is the BEST day of my life!”