Wilhelm’s breath caught in his throat the first time he saw her. Her firm but rounded lines. Her delicate coloring. The thick, treaded rubber of her tires.
Claptrap let him take the driver’s seat; he probably would’ve dueled for it otherwise. He slid his hand along the hard plastic of her gearshift, moving slowly at first, then faster as he learned how she liked to be handled. Sometimes she would jerk forward only to stall out. Other times she would slide into the next gear so easily it felt like they were flying. The best times were when he would touch her stick at just the right moment for her to almost lurch, but he’d catch her just soon enough that she slipped smoothly into a quicker, frenzied speed. That, he decided, was how he best liked to ride her. Hard, fast, and a little bumpy.
He might’ve driven her once or a hundred times. To him, it made no difference; each time was a new, exhilarating experience like he’d never felt before. He found himself constantly hoping, even praying he’d get to touch her just once more.
Wilhelm never loved another as much as he loved his Moon Buggy.