Jax and the Runaway Roadtrip (working title)

[Jazzyamx]

So, I've been working on a second story (yes, I'll eventually get back to Shiloh Valley Tails, it's not entirely dead), and have finally polished a 'first chapter' up enough that I think it's presentable.
Had this idea based on a few things that drifted together, including a car I'm rescuing from scrap, thoughts on what might happen in a less successful 'pet heir' scheme in-verse, and some characters I've come up with.

My main character (whom I need art for) is a Norwegian Forest Cat by the name of Jax Wickens, and as fitting for his breed is massive for a cat--somewhat stringy, but 3 feet and 9 inches in height.


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Chapter One: A Sorrowful Departure

Sable Pointe, Washington: 10:00 pm on May 16th, 2018

Letting himself into the garage with his keys, Jax turned on a few lights and looked around. Shiny paint and chrome gleamed in the dim lighting as the feline wandered sadly around the old cars, all polished and ready for a drive, just as he and dad had been planning to...and now never would.
The feline blinked back tears as he ran a paw gently across the 1962 Shelby Cobra's passenger door handle, thinking about how they'd planned two weeks ago to take this car to the 70th anniversary cruise-in at Ted's Burgers today.
But that had been before. Before dad got sick and never got better, ripped away at only 51 years old.
Reluctantly walking away from the Cobra with a long glance back, he continued walking around the cars and reminiscing, for the cat hadn't all night to say goodbye.

Oh, dad had tried to give him everything, knowing that his pet was the only child he had who truly cared about the cars as more than just dollar signs, but familial greed and his own status as a pet had foiled those plans. Dad's human kids had successfully argued that the collection of sports cars was "too valuable" to be "thrown away on an animal who couldn't even use them". No wonder dad had never talked to and rarely mentioned them.
Jax scoffed quietly to himself. He could use a car just fine, with a few accommodations--and he’d bet his tunafish on being a vastly better driver than the money obsessed sharks that dad’s other children were. Given their lawyer's wrinkled nose last week when the business-trained ringleader of the other kids arrived in a swanky new Lamborghini, it didn't take a superior feline sense of smell to detect the pungent odor of badly burnt clutch coming from the car--near "Flatbed Ride of Shame" level damage, going by his experience.

Dad had taught him well, providing pedal extensions and booster cushions, riding with and eventually racing against his son. He smirked, for they'd both been just about evenly matched by the end, no matter which cars they drove--and he'd raced every car dad owned.
Thoughts and memories of happier times drifted through his head as he walked among dad's cars. The '76 Lancia Stratos HF, Acura NSX, an Aston Martin DB7 V12 Vantage, his prized Ferrari 365 Spyder, and many more—over a dozen exotic race-bred cars built to run hard, yet now they'd be split up, "stuffed and mounted" as his dad liked to scoff, sold to the highest bidders who'd likely never drive them except onto trailers and into climate-controlled garages.
Yet for all the loss and heartache, there were small victories to be had, Jax reminded himself as he circled back around to the last car. To those of materialistic mindsets, it would seem strange in such a display, lowly penny among diamonds. A 1991 Honda Accord station wagon, Seattle Silver Metallic paint and red interior, in mid-level LX trim. Base 2.2L 4-cylinder engine, and an automatic transmission. It was quite an ordinary car in many respects, certainly not a pricey racehorse like the fast machines around it. But it was nevertheless special for reasons that nobody blinded by the glittering of gold would ever understand.

Dad's most enduring car, he'd years ago been told the story of how the Honda had been purchased new and served impressively reliably to the point that when the insurance company totalled it after a drunk driver collided with it in 2004, dad had reclaimed the vehicle and totally restored it with the aid of his racing team employees to as-new condition—having stated “I’ll not scrap the best car I’ve ever owned”.
As impressed as his dad had been with the car, they both shared a very personal connection to the old wagon in that it, along with the driver he'd come to call dad, had been the only car to stop one dark rainy night 12 years ago to pick up a lost, lonely stray kitten.
As luck would have it, and due in part to the probate lawyer's strong affirmation that the other kids couldn't screw him out of everything without legal penalties, the monied brats had considered their father's collection and begrudgingly allowed him to keep the "worthless econobox" alongside spare parts and a fund to maintain it. He'd had to quickly hide his happiness at that, lest they try and be petty. Losing the other cars and property stung badly, but the true gem of the entire lot with a wealth of personal history remained his.

Of course, it wasn't just one last social visit that brought him out to the garage, for the feline knew well that his greedy 'siblings' were still giving him the side eye and were undoubtedly seeking ways to get rid of him. So, it was time to go. He'd heard news stories about pet-friendly communities out east, and it would be a long (illegal) drive on public roads (try as he and dad had, pets still weren’t allowed to operate on public streets aside farm exemptions), but left with no other choice the feline had surreptitiously packed his car earlier in the day. Opening the rear door, he withdrew his pedal extenders and cushions which had been stashed earlier, than set inside the last worldly possessions of his to be brought over from the house--including his bed, toys, half a bag of food, a water jug, bowls, his inherited fund in cash, and most importantly of all several photo albums worth of memories.
Closing the liftgate, Jax felt a tomb-like thunk of finality that seemed like it should've echoed about the building. Shaking off the feeling after a few moments of standing, he walked to the driver's door with the cushion and extensions, opening it up and hesitating for a moment at seeing everything still set up for dad before forcing himself to mount the pedal extensions, place and strap in the seat cushion, and adjust the seat before climbing in.

Tears stung his eyes as the feline adjusted the steering column, moved mirrors to his needs, and finally, with great reluctance, put the ignition key in. Pushing himself to turn it, the tumblers clicked over, and that reliable little 4-cylinder yapped to life as it always did on the first try. Depressing the brake and sliding into gear, Jax got going towards the garage door while hitting the opener button. Stopping right outside, he hopped out with the door opener, walking back into the garage and taking a final look around as he dropped it off, closed the big door, turned off the lights, and went out a side door. So much and so many he'd miss...but no place left for him here anymore. Locking up one last time while crying, he walked unsteadily back to the idling Honda. Hopping back inside, he pointed its nose down dad's long driveway and set off, resisting the temptation to look in the rearview mirror at what he was leaving behind while trying desperately to ignore the gaping hole in his heart and vacant seat beside him.

[Amazee Dayzee]

This sounds like it will be a very interesting story! I can't wait to see where you go with it!