Hey Bookworms! Charlaine here! Is there anything better than going for a drive on a summer night? The way that the moonlight washes over the road. The feeling that you and whatever soul is lucky enough to be rolling with you are the only people in the world. Nowhere specific to be. No certain amount of time to get there. Windows down to let the smell of freshly mown grass, honeysuckle, and warm asphalt fill the car. Radio cranked loud as you sing/scream along while you roar down the highway. It makes a body feel alive. Infinite. There’s a kind of magic in it.
Of course, there’s actual magic, and destruction via lizard, out on the highway as well. If your summer travels take you to Mexico, you might just have the chance to experience it first hand. Have y’all ever heard the legend of the red car?
People also call it “El carro de las brujas” which sounds significantly less cool. It translates to “the carriage of the witches”. The story goes that there’s a red car-the sleekest, most pimptastic red car that you’ve ever seen-that cruises the highway from Mexico City to Cuernavaca every night. The owners of that car are three brujas and they are up to no good. They look for men wandering around alone late at night and, if they come across one, they use their considerable wiles to lure him into the car. Then they take him shopping. A full on movie makeover montage follows. They take off his glasses and his paint stained overalls and show him that as long as he doesn’t mind everything being blurry all the time he can be just as hot as the hottest guy in town.
The brujas drop him off at his doorstep just as the sun rises. He’s a new man and he owes it all to them! Just kidding. They harvest his organs and what not for their spooky dark witchcraft and the police find his body along the highway the next day. That’s the story but, personally, I’m not buying it.
It sounds like a tale told by a bunch of dudes that are threatened by ladies with a whole lotta power and a much doper ride than them. I mean, maybe they do on occasion come across a real jerk and decide to harvest his eyeballs for their potions cabinet, but they aren’t doing blood magic every night. That would be exhausting.
The thing is, people always want to throw shade at the brujas even though they make potions that can heal you if you can’t afford to go to a doctor. Even if those upstanding citizens are lining up at the brujas back door to buy love potions or to have a hex put on somebody trying to steal their boo. It’s enough to make a brujah want to scream.
I think that’s why they go for those long drives every night. Just to blow off some steam. Besides, they’ve got those sick wheels. They have to show them off. The brujas know how reputations work in a small town but hypocrisy is a bad look. Even the HBICs (Highway Brujas In Charge) need a break. They make themselves a bomb playlist and blast that sucker. They always make sure to include a song like “Running with the Devil” or “Black Magic Woman” on there because our gals have a sense of humor. They maybe stop to collect herbs or do a spell under the full moon when their powers are the strongest. Then, if they’re feeling particularly extra, they’ll rev up the engine and do some wicked donuts on the mayor’s lawn. Destroy that priss from uptown’s prize begonias. Spray paint some graphic graffiti on that cheating douchebag Fernando’s new SUV. If you’re gonna have a bad rep you might as well earn it, right? In the middle of all that calamitous insanity, they probably stop and help ladies having car trouble. Get them back on the road and give them a blessing to get home safe. And yeah, if the happen upon a real sleazebag who maybe gets handsy or mouthy they’ll give him a sleeping draught then drop that sucker off sans his sweetmeats. Pobody’s nerfect, amiright? Blessed be Bookworms!
Did you miss last week’s Folklore post? No worries, friends. You can read it here.