1786, November 11. It was the first thanksgiving. And you were just an average car, no expensive wheels, and nothing special about you. At least that’s what you thought before you met Putt-Putt. He made you feel special.

Every car surrounded the dinner table. Chips, juice, and your favorite. Cotton candy, filled every inch of the table. Everyone waited eagerly to eat the snacks that the snack truck has served them.

So clueless, everyone looked. You had helped Putt-Putt carve the cotton candy, everyone knew that but was that the full truth? In fact, it wasn’t. While you were helping him, you had shown him your ankle… or should I say, wheel?

He sits next to you at the table, giving you a little wink. Before whispering,

“I’ll be waiting for next year.”