Joe walked outside, and got into his car. It was a pretty great car, or at least that's what everyone had ever told him. Everything about this car was special. It was going to take Joe places, of that there was no doubt. In fact, with this car, there was almost nothing Joe couldn't do. He put his car into drive, and headed out onto the highway. He wasn't sure where he was going, or when he'd get there, but he was optimistic.
AS he drove along, he would occasionally overhear others talk about how great his car was. It wasn't anything flamboyant or outrageous, but it was reliable, and sturdy. Some called it dependable. "There goes Joe," they'd say. "He sure has a dependable ride."
Of course, along the road, things don't always go smoothly. Sometimes there's a bump here, a pothole there, and those take their toll on the dependable car. Occasionally something would break, and would have to be replaced. When that happened, the car seemed ever so slightly less dependable, but Joe made do. Once, he even found out a part of the car didn't work at all - a part that other people with other cars take for granted. Joe was concerned, but the car still got him places, so maybe it wasn't bad.
Sometimes, someone else would ride along with Joe for a while. He appreciated the company, and he liked to talk to them about their cars and where they were going. But eventually, everyone that rode with Joe would eventually stop riding, because it became clear to them, if not to Joe, that he wasn't really going anywhere.
Still, Joe drove on. Over hills and through valleys, and along the way he saw many things. The hills were glorious, where he could see for miles and the landscapes were so beautiful that they would break Joe's heart into a million pieces just from the sight. One of these hills had a fork in the road, and Joe took it, because the scenery looked exciting and fun. Leaving the old road behind forever, he decided to see where this new path might take him.
The valleys were less exciting, unfortunately. When Joe was in a valley, He could barely see his surroundings. Storm clouds like low valleys, you see, and it was hard to navigate through them. Every time Joe drove his car into a valley, the car was beaten by the rain and hail, leaving the once beautiful, dependable car a mere whisper of its former self.
Joe didn't mind. He was still driving. Yes, the car made odd noises now, and occasionally had some trouble getting moving. Some hills were just too steep for the car to climb, and Joe had to find another way, into another valley. People stopped riding with Joe, and they said the car was not dependable. They didn't want to be with Joe when the car eventually broke down, and they all knew it would. They told Joe to get a new car, or trade it in, or even just park it somewhere and forget about it. But Joe was going somewhere, even though he didn't know where, or how, or even why. And he knew the car was going to take him there.
Eventually, Joe's car could no longer make it up hills. Joe would have to get out and push. Sometimes, someone would help him push it up the hill, but they wouldn't stay with Joe after. They had their own cars, and their cars were much more dependable than Joe's. They didn't want Joe or his car to mess up anything in theirs. So Joe was alone.
Joe found that the hills were coming further and further apart, with long stretches of road in between them. These valleys were different, but still valleys. Instead of stormy clouds, these held empty deserts. The road went deep into the desert, and as far as Joe could see. No off ramps, no gas stations, no place to repair... Just endless road in endless desert. There might be hills further out, but they were far and difficult for Joe to make out. But, it was downhill, and Joe could drive downhill without too much worry. Maybe it would be fine. Maybe he could get enough speed to make the next hill when he found it, and then he'd find somewhere to go.
He traveled for miles like this, as the scenery drifted by. Occasionally, Joe would find a small hill to help him through the flat and otherwise barren wasteland. At the top of each of these, he'd look at his car, and he'd see that it was no longer beautiful. That nobody would have any reason to call it special. He had wasted the car on bad choices, and had driven it to ruin. Now it was barely a car at all. It was ugly, weatherbeaten, an old jalopy that nobody would ever share again. Joe knew he couldn't turn back, though - this road is a one way trip. He could only drive forward, and hope somehow he could redeem the cars reputation, make the entire journey worthwhile.
Joe once again got behind the wheel of the car, and drove on, down the hill into another desert. He couldn't see more hills ahead, they might not even exist anymore. When he reached the bottom of the valley, he coasted, for the car no longer had the power to move itself forward. He coasted for a very long time, until eventually, it stopped, in the middle of an endless desert, with nothing and noone to see the once reliable car move its last inch.
Joe hated his car. Instead of taking him somewhere, It took him nowhere at all. He could have made better choices, taken different roads, certainly, but the entirety of the blame shouldn't be on Joe's shoulders, right? But Joe knew it was. The car was nothing but what Joe had made of it, and the choices that had gotten him here were long in the past and impossible to correct. There was little to do, except give up on the car, and forget the things that people told him were special. So, without a word, Joe stepped out of the car, closed the door, and walked away, into the desert.
