Another short beginning

Another beginning to a piece I have yet to finish ---

"For reasons I only partly understand, my father bought a little red sports car the day after he discovered my mother’s infidelities. While she attended fire-dancing classes and arrived home late in the evenings, he desperately called auto shops to compare the cost of racing stripes and vintage hood ornaments. He entered his new ride into the fall harvest parade – alongside the other fifty and sixty-somethings and all those attempting to recapture some spirit of youth, danger, and virility – and was ignorant of the fact that my mother didn’t even attend this farce, as she was busy having a lavish oyster dinner with a man she had met in one of her adult ed classes. Meanwhile, across town, I hid out in my studio apartment and took very few calls. But it was only a matter of weeks, or days, before my father would crack and race over to my house and we would become two, aging bachelor losers, leaning on one another for support."