The Flat Tire and Story of HoneyDew

The endlessness of an American highway is a wonder in itself, after hours of driving the three lanes of tarmac that seem to blur together become a symbol of freedom and teenage antics. That also disappears as soon as a group of five young adults get stuck at the side of the road with a flat tire.

“This is definitely not a reflection of my driving,” claimed Elizabeth, who was examining the tire next to Blair.

“Okay, but the two curbs missed and the frightened old woman are a tell-tale sign,” she remarked, “and this needs to be changed, spare?”

“In the back,"

"Do you want me to help you change it?”

“Uh yes, since I maybe don’t actually know how to do that exactly”

“Girl! We need to crumble the patriarchy and fight those gender roles and the first step is me teaching you how to look after machinery, let’s go”

While Blair demonstrates all the workings of a wrench and ‘lug nuts’ the others - who in fact also were clueless in the way of changing a tire - resigned to sitting on the small line of grass beside the highway.

“I need a piss and smoke,” Dave said flashing Max and HoneyDew the peace sign before retreating behind a patch of scraggly bushes.

Max and HoneyDew watched the traffic for a little while and listened to the sound of Elizabeth constantly dropping things and making “Things so much harder” while she only needed to “Channel her inner mechanic.”

After a few minutes, HoneyDew turned to look at Max with his long pale face and dark hair. She admired his mysterious attitude and unaltered silence and the vibe that any questions that she would ask him there would be no proper answer she would receive. She decided to test her theory.

“So, uh, how come you wear an eyepatch.”

“Pirate” Max responded while HoneyDew smiled at the ground. Max was definitely one of her favourite people she had ever met. She took a moment to admire the others around her as well. Blair was so nice and strong and Elizabeth was the ultimate ‘mom-friend’ that everyone needed. And Dave, well Dave’s aftershave had made the whole van smell like masculine citrus so that was nice.

“I like that you don’t talk much,” She admitted to Max, who had also turned to look at HoneyDew, “at my house, I was always being told to shut up, ha” after a pause she realised that Max was looking at her in way that meant ‘please continue’.

“My family are very conservative, like my mums motto was ‘no gun, no fun’- my five-year-old sister nearly shot herself but we still had many semi-automatic weapons displayed in our house. My dad would take my brother hunting all the time. I couldn't even bring up minimum wage without a huge argument so imagine the problem when I was found in bed, with another girl”

There was another pause as a tear rolled down HoneyDew’s face. “I am not welcome in that house anymore.”

Max placed a hand on HoneyDew’s shoulder and was glad she was opening up to them. He pointed to himself and nodded in solidarity hoping she would understand. She nodded back.