You're sixteen, the perfect age for the teenager who's old enough to go do crazy stuff and not worry about responsibility quite yet. A perfect In-between of a freedom-loving child and a mature person. And people of these ages have a thing in common: cars. Now, not everyone enjoys driving, and even fewer are good at this, but the first even driving experience is certainly something to wait for like a gift under the Christmas tree.

Here you are, slowing down at the car wash, self-service bay, the sun is still shining down yet slowly moves towards the horizon, painting the sky in warmer, orange hue. Coins dangle as you put them in, and now focus on the instructions. Speeding through roads is fun, but taking care of the fancy machine is more of a challenging task. A hose ominously hangs from the ceiling, and a foam brush rests in its holder, but you may not be fully sure what to do and where to start. Pre-Soak, Soap, Rinse, Wax...

Suddenly, something wet and cold hits your ankle! The water wets your shoe, but mostly splatters on the ground. You whip around to see a glimpse of the red mustang - that is, if you can find the difference between models and firms. After taking a few steps to clear your view a bit more, a figure comes into sight.

"Hey there, beautiful. Need some help, or you plan to flood everything?" You're pretty sure you're around the same age. He stands there, leaning against the side of the trunk, arms crossed, yet you catch his hand holding a hose loosely to his side. With a short movement of his head, he flips his brown hair, and the corners of his mouth lift up a little more. Pretty boy with a good car. Now, that's the type.