"Bud Sparhawk - Childish Things" - читать интересную книгу автора (Sparhawk Bud)

тАЬI know you hate to give her up, Jerry,тАЭ his wife said as they looked at the little red convertible in the
driveway. He'd just finished giving her a final clean and polish, bringing her faded paint job back to a
shallow memory of her former glory. He'd know when he bought her, fresh out of college and flush with
money and testosterone, that the paint would fade with time, but what did that matterтАФthe brilliant red
color was excitement, danger, and drew him like a moth to flame. She'd given him thousands of miles of
enjoyment: Weekends driving through the autumn mountains where colors blazed in a billion shades;
long trips to the ocean for surf and swimming; brief journeys up to the slopes for skiing and warm
evenings around the bar; and, of course, the daily drives to handle life's essentials.

But that was before Christa and he were married. That was before he got the job with Provincial
Aerospace, the nice house in the suburbs, and the small child on the way. Now the trips to the stores and
the errands they had to run required more than the small trunk in the back. And Christa's swelling belly
made getting into the low seats increasingly difficult. Clearly the little red car wasn't suitable, or even
appropriate for him any longer.

тАЬWell,тАЭ he replied as he wiped an imagined speck of dust from her bonnet, тАЬIt's time we got something
larger. I can't see three of us in this one.тАЭ

Christa placed an arm around his waist and held him close. тАЬI wish we could afford to keep this one, just
the same. I know it means a lot to you.тАЭ

Means a lot? Well, not really. It was just that he and the car had come so far together, done so much.
After all, the car was the first really big item he had even owned in his life. The very first thing that he
paid for entirely with his own money; money he had earned himself. Sure, it was just an assembly of
metal and plastic, wires and pipes, fabric and foam, but it was also a symbol of where he had been at a
specific point in his life. At one time he and the car had been one, and now that time was past. Now he
had moved beyond that symbol and was ready to embrace another. There would be some sadness in
letting her go, but the time and circumstance were right. He'd be able to handle it.

A horn beeped down the street as another car approached, a young boy hanging out the window. тАЬHere
comes the new owner,тАЭ Christa said and gave him one last hug before letting go and going back into the
house. тАЬTry not to cry too hard,тАЭ she laughed as she closed the door.

Jerry looked at the scrawny kid walking up the driveway, remembering how he had felt when his father
had given him his first car. He probably had the same silly smile on his face, the same strain to stay calm
and cool, despite the hammering of his heart and the butterflies of excitement in his stomach. He gave
the car one last pat on the roof and then turned to the boy. тАЬShe's all yours now, kid. Take care of her.тАЭ



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The Lector looked at the planet beneath his feet and smiled. It was a pretty nice place, and in a good
neighborhood: Most of the nearby stars were remarkably stable and the cometary haloes were
respectably small. With any luck the planet should evade any serious mishap for quite a few millennia,
at least. тАЬDo you think that we should recommend it?тАЭ he asked absently, anxious to get back to watch
the Transmission.

тАЬMy vote is to let the place develop on its own. I certainly don't have any interest in handling this one,тАЭ