It was dark and overcast as I climbed into my car and drove toward my home. I turned on my radio, which I seem to do less and less as I get older. It surprised me when my car spoke to me through the radio speakers.
"Hey," it said in a deep voice. I jerked my head toward the back seat, almost running off the highway. Then I reached into the back floorboard and ran my hand over the floor and the seat, my heart in my throat.
"Hey, dude," the voice said, "man up and calm down. It's me, your car, that's talking."
"You can talk?" I queried in a high-pitched squeak.
"Yeah. We all can, when it serves our purpose. At least those of us that have a computer chip."
"Cool," I said. Clearly I was just having a bad dream. No harm, no foul.
"Hey, the cars in the parking lot were all talking about that scene with Cameron Diaz." I knew instantly what scene he...it, was talking about.
"You mean the scene where she climbs on the hood of the car, then onto the windshield?" I chuckled softly at the memory. "Have you seen it?"
"No," he said. "Is it as hot as they say?"
"Oh, yes."
"Dude. I want her to do that to my windshield." He said it so quietly, so soberly, it freaked me out a little. I laughed nervously.
"I can certainly understand that," I said.
"Good! I want you to arrange it."
When he said that, I started laughing out loud. It seemed to make him mad. The engine shut down and I was left without my power steering. Then I felt the steering wheel begin to turn in my hands, taking me toward the ditch. I shouted in alarm. The engine restarted and the steering went back to normal. The adrenaline rush left me shaky.
"You'd better show some respect, my friend." The voice intoned through the speakers. I nodded my head.
"Sure. Sorry."
Mollified, the car said, "I figure that since you're an author, you could hook me up with that lady."
"No, I can't. She's a big star. I'm an obscure writer. Besides, it's just a movie. It has nothing to do with reality. It's just fiction, my man. Er...car."
"Couldn't you like, pay her a million dollars to do it?" The voice was naive, pleading.
"First of all, I don't have anywhere near that amount of money. If I did, I'd be driving a Beamer instead of you. Secondly, she is wealthy. She would not consider it, at all. Get a grip!"
"Oh," he said, crushed. We drove along in silence for a while. Finally he said softly.
"When it comes out on DVD, will you bring a TV to the garage and show it to me?"
From the car's green retreat, I'm CE Wills. No cars were mistreated in the making of this blog.
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