Artie’s Talking Car
The flaming sun bleeds across an endless US-60, setting on the horizon and in Artie’s bloodshot eyes. Speeding down the empty highway, his right hand scours the back seat of his old Chevy Chevelle. The car’s paint is a gorgeous orange that flares like the sun in a baking desert. Shrieking – the tires swerve to the left and right the second he turns his body. His attention returns to the road, eyes squinting. Sweat trickles down his bald, tan head. He pats behind him once more.
“A little to the left Artie” the radio mumbles. He glances at the radio for a moment, but he reaches more to the left and pulls out a pair of sunglasses. Sliding the Aviators onto his eyes, he smirks. The horizon remains a glowing red abyss.
“Thanks,” Artie replies to himself.
“Anytime” the radio mumbles. His flip-flop’d foot punches the breaks. The orange Chevelle swerves as he struggles to maintain control.
“HEY HEY – KEEP DRIVING. KEEP DRIVING!” the radio roars. The break pushes back and overpowers his foot. The engine revs up back to speed, defiant. Artie raises his hands and eyebrows. The wheel corrects itself.
“WOAH– WOAH– What? WHAT?!” Artie shouts.
“We can’t slow down now, Artie,” the radio replies.
“Why not?! I’m freaking out! I mean… I’ve never had a talking car. Where’d you come from?” He shouts.
“I’ve been with you all along. Keep driving.” the radio commands. Artie catches his breath for a moment before grabbing the wheel and putting his foot back on the gas. He loosens his shoulders and reaches to adjust his rearview mirror. His hand whiffs and clutches at the air.
“What? Where’s my mirror?” Artie asks.
“Hm. What do you mean?” the radio murmurs.
“My rear-view mirror. Where did it go?” He repeats.
“You don’t need it.”
“What if I need to look behind me?”
“With all this open road? There’s nothing to see behind you. It’ll only distract you.”
“Well, that’s not to code. What if I need to merge or see something?”
“This road only goes forward Artie” the car hums. Artie’s eyebrows raise. Lifting his sunglasses and dropping them, he sees the US-60 as a one lane road before him.
“Well, that’s bullshit. Why don’t I just turn this around?.” Artie scoffs.
“Well, aren’t you going somewhere?” it replies.
“Well, I can still turn around!”
“I don’t want to.”
“You’re a car!” Artie shouts.
“And I will take you to where you want to go.”
“And what if I want to go backward?”
“You’d miss the sunset,” the car replies. Artie looks up at the horizon. The orange star wanes into scarlet strokes on a purple sky. The clouds crash over the plateaus like overflowing plunders of gold. Gold coins scatter the desert landscape, glistening in the dying light. A flock of vultures whirl overhead but cannot keep up. They flinch at the passing storm of dust behind the Chevelle.
“Hm, yeah okay. You got me.” says Artie.