[b][center][h2]Joel Nicolosi[/h2][/center][/b]

The small four cylinder purred happily from the exhaust note that sang out the back of the car dropping to a low and steady hum as Joel dropped the shifter into neutral and coasted into a parking spot within Corona Park. Sunlight glinted off the right side as he stepped out glancing across the park momentarily towards Siobhan and her small assembly setting up a few yards away. The door shut heavily with the typical weight of a mid-90’s sports car: Solid and affirmative. They weren’t made like that any more. For a long time he kicked around the idea of getting another car, but couldn’t settle on anything. He racked his brain over it, perusing the ads and thinking absentmindedly in times where he probably shouldn’t have been- whatever he got would have to be [i]different[/i], unique, something nobody else had done. The Jeep remained his trusty standby and the GT-R that he brought back from Japan only made its trade at night, attracting far too much attention during the day. No, it had to be something subtle, inconspicuous and something only a true connoisseur would recognize. 

The little white [url=https://www.thetruthaboutcars.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/993350_10151717360873654_568226421_n.jpg]Celica GT-Four[/url] was all of those things. Finding it bone-stock at a small Toyota dealer posted online in Sacramento, he knew it was exactly what he was looking for and the dealer, likewise, knew what it was they were holding and smartly listed no price. In truth, he knew he’d probably overpaid for it, particularly after the hauling charge to have it brought up to Sol, but it felt more like [i]him[/i]. The swooping 90’s era interior that encased basic, glowing needle gauges, pattern-clutch shifter, the smell of the original carpeting and the “heavyness” about it. It was easy to put on the edge. He’d only changed out the wheels and tires for a tougher rally style and installed a hydraulic handbrake. With a thin skim of light rain on the road, it floated over the pavement like a dancer. He and Sio had made a few laps of southside at 3am, heel-toe on the gears and giving the brake a quick tug brought the rear bumper out of step as naturally as hitting the ball with the bat. It was a ton of fun. 

Other than it’s right-hand drive configuration, the car’s only other distinguishing feature was the standard Sol City registration simply reading, [b]APEXSOL[/b]. Walking around the back, he pulled a small bouquet of daffodils from the left seat and set across the nicely manicured grass of the park giving their scent a quick brush against his nose as he walked. He was [i]almost[/i] being a nice guy... almost. He smirked a little, catching Sio’s glance from behind his sunglasses. A modicum of warmth was absorbed by his black, long sleeve t-shirt and jeans, spring and summer couldn’t come soon enough, he thought, though that would mean a lot more rain, it was better than cold and snow. However, he reminded himself that they would likely be out of the country for much of it. The rally season carried on to near the end of Fall. He ran one hand through his hair briefly as he strolled up, having cut it shorter and shaved a bit for Jamaica. The lengths were too long and hot inside his helmet and not wearing a hat for a change felt good in the fresh air.

The children shot him curious glances as he greeted their instructor, putting his free hand on her hip and exchanging a light peck in front of them. He brought the flowers up before she backed away. “Thought I would bring you back a little something you lost,” He said with a sly grin.

[@Almalthia]