The folly of youth
The car was a new one, a 1930 something or other. A four door beauty of an automobile, probably sleek black and all bright chrome in the city, where water and soap were easy to come by. Not here though, the desert marred such things. It moved slowly, wheels swerving around potholes while skirting washouts. The dirt from the road kicked up behind it in a plume of brown. It dusted the car, blurring the smooth lines of the vehicle, dimming the sun shining on the polished chrome. It slowed and turned onto the path leading to Jim's house. It would take them awhile to get to his front door at their current pace. Jim hated cars, so he never paid much attention to the damn things. He couldn't even be certain as to the brand of the thing. They all seemed hot to ride in and uncomfortable by Jim's standards, he preferred riding a horse, an animal with a brain. Debatable on a whether the animal was intelligent, though that mattered little. He never had a horse steer him over a cliff, which is exactly what happened to the Stanley kid last week, car and all.
He leaned back in his chair and frowned at the vehicle. A feeling of ill ease crept over his spine and settled on his stomach. Despite his 73 years Jim had every intention of living another 73, regardless of what anyone told him about impossibilities. In all those years Jim knew what kept him alive was listening to his feelings when it came to himself and his family. Right now he felt danger.
Jim leaned back in his chair. "Abby love. Get my brother on that damn telephone and tell him it looks like we have uninvited guests. And bring me that cane."