Ricochet

This part is true:
Around five in the afternoon I decide to take a nap. I spread a blue fleece blanket over the speckled, gray couch apolstery and lay down. I don’t feel very tired, but I keep my eyes closed, knowing that eventually the sleepiness will come. It’s some time before it does. I settle into the comfortable feeling of being awake enough to know that I’m about to fall asleep. Then I hear an oscillating, high-pitched whine from outside my window. It doesn’t ever stop, but the volume fluctuates, indicating the source of the sound is moving. I come to the conclusion that a neighbor from across the cul-de-sac must have a remote controlled car. The noise it makes is very irritating, but I keep my eyes closed, holding out for payoff of sleep. Instead I am rewarded with a half-conscious memory of my childhood.
At some point between third and fifth grade I had an RC car. I think it was called Ricochet or something along those lines. The body of the car was very slim and the the tires were very thick, so that you could flip the car on either side and it would still drive. You could toss the car however you wanted and it would always land in a drivable orientation. I remember one hazy summer evening my neighbor and I walked across the street from our houses to our elementary school, both of us driving our Ricochets. He walked up the fire-escape staircase of the main building and tossed his car onto the roof of a connected building. He piloted his Ricochet off the roof. It landed on a sidewalk and he proceeded to drive it into the gravel playground.

A brief excerpt from the novel, currently called Episodes of Sunshine. To be clear, my intention is not to write a novel, but I must for class. What better way to fill up 40,000 words than vaguely fictionalizing everyday from the beginning of the semester to the end? I'm also inserting essays, stories, and poems into the novel, to take up space. Don't look for it at your local bookstore, it won't be there. But I do like this passage, for sentimental reasons.