If anyone looked into the small, old, white car, the one with a black strip around it, they would see a very sweet sight.
They would see a girl looking up at her father as though he was god, nothing but respect in her eyes.
From the way she looked up at him, you could assume that if he told her to go out in the middle of the road and do the chicken dance, she most probably would.
But that is a stupid assumption to make, because her father would never tell her to do anything that might bring danger to her, like standing or dancing in the middle of the road, for anyone could tell from the look of pure happiness on his face that he loved her as much as she loved him.
That small, dirty, old, white car was filled with the vibe and sound of pure happiness, in fact, the happiness could not be contained in such a small place.
It was overflowing out of the car and making passers-by happy, filling their ears with the sound of singing and laughter.
To the young girl, the dirty, old, white, small car only ever reminded her of happiness and pleasant memories.
If anyone looked into the small, old, white car, the one with the black strip around it, they would quickly look the other way and hurry past, because in our society we are taught that we should look away from things that are unpleasant.
Not only was the sight in the car unpleasant, it was sad.
We would see an old man, the signs of his previous stresses in life showing on his face, but he tries very hard to mask this, pretending that the happy man who used to sing with his daughter in the car seven years ago is still him.
He tries to sing, but he is shut down by the girl beside him.
She sits there with her headphones in, listening to her own ''new'' music, turned up high, possibly to block out the sound of her father.
The only time she acknowledges the presence of her father is when, every few minutes, she tells her father to shut up.
When she sees the small car, she no longer sees happiness and memories.
She sees how the car is so dirty that it has turned to the colour of coffee stains, or the colour of an old newspaper.
She sees empty chip packets and the dust balls, and gets extremely irritated by the fact that she can hardly see out the windows because they are so dusty and gross.
Of course, she still loves her father just as much as she did seven years ago, but for anyone who looked into the small, old, white car, the one with the black strip around it, it would be less obvious than it used to be.
• By Lucy Melchert, Year 12, Bayfield High School
