Archive of Our Own ^beta

Roddy Garcia spat as he exited the steaming car. He couldn’t believe it happened again, his Del Sol decided that now would be a good time to turn the radiator into a kettle. Minding his fingers, the scrawny Asian popped the Honda’s hood open and backed away as steam and coolant shot out like a geyser all over the underside. Roddy let out a grunt as he eyed the radiator cap and went back to the car to get his gloves. He had told his mom that the delivery was too much for the car he had since being a college freshman, but, as he was now stranded out in the middle of the northern wastelands beyond the Angeles Crest during a very hot midday sun, Roddy had no choice but to deal with it.

Potholder clutched in his hand, Roddy cautiously unscrewed the boiling-hot radiator cap. He then quickly backed away, shielding his arms as more bubbling coolant spat out, staining the car’s front as it dripped down as well as coloring the engine bay in an orange Jackson Pollock facsimile. Fully resigned, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed in his emergency.

“Hello, Triple-A? Hi, I’m Roddy Garcia, and, um, I don’t have a car anymore…”

His mother was glad Roddy wasn’t hurt, but she was still disappointed that another meal had gone undelivered. As the two sat in a Lancaster garage a couple hours later, his mother silently mouthed a curse in Filipino, exchanging glances with her son before glancing back at her phone.

“This is the, what, seventh time this has happened?” His mother asked, sounding concerned, “Rodrigo, what are you doing to your car?”

“I’m doing nothing, mom.” Roddy defended himself, “Ever since dad got it for me, the car’s been a nightmare to keep running. Whoever the original owner was, they definitely didn’t take care of the car.” He then added dismissively, “Before you ask, yes I have been taking care of it.”

“Ay, I don’t know,” His mother sighed, “What happens if you don’t have a car anymore? How will you get the deliveries made?”

“I’ll find some way,” He replied, “I don’t want to have to depend on using yours and dad’s cars.”

“I know, especially because your dad is so busy handling the restaurant’s taxes right now.” She sighed.

Just then, the mechanic came in. Roddy had hoped to hear some good news, but judging by the perspiration on the man’s face, the grubbiness of his hands, and the troubled look on his face, both mother and son felt their hopes melt.

“Mr. Garcia, Mrs. Garcia,” He said, “I’m afraid that last coolant explosion burst some pipes in your car, damaged the radiator so you need to replace that, and also we found the engine casing warped due to the huge heat.” Seeing the faces of his customers fall, he added, “The cost of repair will be about ten grand to replace everything. I don’t recommend a partial repair since your engine block’ll be still damaged. This something we can deal?”

Roddy looked at his mom, who decided now would be a good time to call his dad. After a while, his mother returned to the two men.

“That’s ok,” She replied, “We’ll be replacing the car anyway.” Inside, Roddy cheered! He was going to get a new car! At least, he was cheering until his mother turned to him and said, “We’ll talk to your dad, ok?”

“Can’t I find my own car?” Roddy complained later that night, over dinner. He idly poked a fork into his rice, his own obsession diminishing his hunger. His mother, sister, and father were seated across from him, eating their dinner quietly. He hadn’t discussed this with his family since his mom had picked him up from the garage, but Roddy was sure his dad would say something about it. Or, more realistically, his mother.

“We want your car to be as safe and as reliable as possible.” His mother countered, “That’s why I have your dad looking at possible cars that have airbags and seatbelts and those things.”

“I have a lot of clients with used cars that are not that old.” His dad added, “At least we would be getting them for not that much.”

“Yeah, meanwhile I’m still wanting to learn how to drive, let alone buy one.” His sister, Karen, interjected. She bitterly ate a spoonful of rice, then said, “So why complain about it?”

“I dunno, really.” Roddy shrugged, eating a forkful of beef, “I already have a lot of money saved up from both interning and driving deliveries, so why not give me a chance? I’m already 23.”

“But you’re still my son.” His mother replied, protectively.

“Ha, you got owned!” Karen chuckled, eating some asparagus on her plate.

“Just because I’m your son doesn’t mean I can’t go out looking for a car of my own,” Roddy defended, “especially one that I’m gonna be using forever.” His dad finally had enough and cleared his throat.

“Ok, son.” He said, “If you want to show how responsible you are with a car, I’ll give you some money to go and find one. It has to be reliable and also cheap, otherwise you can’t keep it. We don’t want to keep spending money in garages.” Roddy considered this in his head.

“Ok,” He agreed, nodding, “I’ll find me a car.” He then turned to Karen, “Who knows, maybe I might let you drive it.”

“Hard pass.” She replied bluntly before sipping on her juice.

The rest of the dinner was spent in silence, but in his head, Roddy was already making plans of what to buy.

(o\ ! /o)

A week came and went for Roddy as he communicated with a woman who was selling a classic car near his neighborhood, a white 1963 Volkswagen Beetle with a sunroof. After a price was negotiated, the two agreed to meet and Roddy managed to borrow $2000 from his dad the night before he was due to buy. His mom, busy with the restaurant, wasn’t there to oversee the money borrowing, and frankly Roddy was thankful of that. A few days later, Roddy arrived at an antique craftsman house in South Pasadena, flanked by two giant trees and a splendid green lawn. He checked his watch, noticing it was just after 10AM. With a confident breath, Roddy walked down the brick pathway, through the lawn, and up the porch steps. Before even thinking, he ensured he still had the big wad of cash in his pocket. After a deep sigh, he shed his anxieties and knocked on the door.

The woman who greeted him looked younger than her age, with warm creases and wrinkles giving her a warm, motherly appearance, slightly betrayed by her rebelliously frizzy black hair. She wore flip-flops, sweatpants, and a long t-shirt, and the mug in her hand was steaming with fresh tea. The woman looked the lanky, casually-dressed Asian standing in her doorway and was immediately pleased to see him.

“You must be Roddy.” She smiled, setting her cup down on a table by the door.

“That’s right, ma’am.” He gave a small bow in response, then went to shake her hand, “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Douglas.”

“Please.” She let out a small snort of laughter, then let his hand go, “Just call me Carole. Follow me, I’ll take you to meet him.”

“Uh, him?” Roddy wondered, already a little confused. She named the car?

As he entered the naturally-sunlit room, Roddy passed by a large shelf near the television, decorated almost like a shrine. Each of its three levels were lined with shiny silver and gold cups, medals, and plaques, while taller trophies stood around the shelf like loiterers. While all had different designs, they shared the same name on each and every award.

“Jim Douglas,” Roddy read out as they passed by, “I take it, your husband?”

“Was,” Carole said wistfully as she led Roddy through the kitchen, “and still is. He raced all around Europe and America, then retired and became a driving instructor.” She then chuckled slightly and dumped the rest of her tea into the sink, adding, “Not that it stopped him from going fast.”

“Oh, well my condolences.” Roddy nodded out of respect, “What did he race?”

“Wait here.” Carole replied as she grabbed a key from the keyholder by the backdoor and hurried out.

While Roddy waited, he was curious and returned to the shelf to eye at all the trophies. All of them had such exotic names of races: The El Dorado, the Trans-France, even the Rio Gran Premio. ‘Damn,’ he thought, ‘this guy really did race everywhere.’ As his eyes wandered along the gold and silver cups, one picture caught his eye. It was labeled “Riverside, 1968” and showed a man in a white racing suit, holding a blue helmet, and standing out the sunroof of a small, white car with red-white-and-blue stripes. Roddy felt his breath leave him, seeing such a legendary racer’s face.

“Jeez,” He commented to himself, “He even looks cool.”

“Roddy!” Carole suddenly called from the backyard, “Would you like to come out here for a moment?”

“Uh!” Roddy gasped, broken from his reverie, “Sure! I’ll be right there!” After taking one last glimpse of Jim Douglas’ smiling face, he headed through the kitchen and out the back door.

Sitting in the driveway was a small round lump under a dusty, worn cloth tarp. Carole was walking around from the back and wiping the dust off her hands. Upon seeing Roddy emerge, she smiled and swung her arms towards the object.

“Well?” She said, with the air of a showman, “What do you think?”

“It looks pretty dirty and not like the photos.” Roddy replied wrily, “Is this the little car?”

“Indeed it is.” Carole nodded and, with another flourish, pulled the dusty cover off the car.

Roddy’s jaw dropped. The car Jim Douglas was standing in was now in front of him and it looked absolutely gorgeous, he honestly could not believe this Beetle went racing. The chrome trim, hubcaps, and bumpers reflected the California sun like mirrors, while the pearl white paint glowed like marble. The stripes and numbers also stood out against the white paint, with a large “53” adorned proudly on the hood and backed by red, white, and blue. As Roddy continued to walk around, the grey interior and sunroof were without wear, or tear, and the engine was so clean Roddy assumed he could eat out of it.

“Damn.” He finally said after two rounds of circling the car, admiring his reflection in every shiny surface, “This car is so cool! It’s, like, perfect! I… I…” He began stammering, trying to find his words.

“I know.” Carole nodded, putting her hand on his shoulder, “Jim just about said the same thing when he met Herbie.”

“Herbie, ma’am?” Roddy asked, finding his voice again.

“His name’s Herbie.” She affirmed, “Named by his friend Tennessee, apparently the front reminded him of his uncle’s nose.”

“Wow,” Roddy said quietly, “And this won…?”

“Everything.” She confirmed again, “We don’t know how, he just could.”

Roddy thought for a moment as he stared at the little car in front of him. $2000 for a little car this perfect? What was wrong with it? Would it just break as soon as he got off the driveway? Was he getting scammed? Was this even a race car? Doubt clouded Roddy’s face and Carole noticed, patting his shoulder again.

“Would you like to take him for a little ride?” She asked, giving her best warm smile. Roddy looked up at her and nodded.

“Y-yeah…” He muttered, finding his voice.

“Just around the block should be alright.” Carole nodded, handing Roddy the key, “Then we can talk after.”

“O-ok.” Roddy felt his mouth going dry as he looked from the key to the car, and back again. He really thought he was dreaming, or that his parents were going to kill him once they saw he brought a race car home, an old one at that.

He walked around behind Herbie and opened the driver’s door. After minding his head, he sunk inside and dropped onto the soft, sprung grey seat while his feet roamed over to the pedals. The clutch felt just the right amount of resistance, and the gas and brakes felt solid too. The gear stick emitted a solid “clunk” in all four gear positions, plus reverse, delivering immense satisfaction. His hands gripped the thin wheel, his chest now pounding noticeably, as the excitement and the anxiety washed over Roddy. Time seemed to slow as he aimed the key into the slot and depressed the clutch. On the first turn, the little 40-horsepower engine puttered to a start with a loud roar, then softened into a gentle purr which brought Roddy back to reality and directed his attention to Carole.

“Song of a bluebird.” He commented in awe.

“I know,” Carole smiled, “I tuned him myself. Now go, have fun.”

“I will!” Roddy smiled, then turned to his feet, “Ok, let’s see where your bite is.”

With the clutch depressed under his left foot, he swung the gear stick into first and disengaged the handbrake. He then let off on his left foot, his ears listening to the engine groan and slow as the wheels began to move. Slipping slowly down the driveway, Roddy pumped the gas a little to speed up and turned onto the street. Going down the tree-lined avenue, he checked his mirrors and blind spot before returning his attention back to the car.

“Well, uh, Herbie.” He awkwardly introduced, “Looks like your brakes feel fine, gas is fine, gears are fine, everything seems to be fine.” Coming up to a stop sign, Roddy indicated for right and then reached up to open the sunroof, letting the warm sun inside. As it opened smoothly, he commented, “Huh, this works too.” As Roddy stared up to enjoy the sunlight, he neglected to pay attention to the controls and did not notice Herbie making the right turn for him. As soon as he noticed, Roddy quickly grabbed the wheel and swerved Herbie against the curb.

“What the heck?” He said to himself, jiggling the steering wheel and feeling the pedals. Nothing out of the ordinary. After a few seconds, he muttered, “Huh, must be some brake issue or, heh, maybe that self-driving stuff.” Against his better judgement, Roddy let the steering wheel go and set his feet down on the floor, then asked kindly, “Umm, Herbie? Would you mind if you… drove to the next stop sign, please?”

Upon hearing this, the steering wheel suddenly jerked left and the gearstick shifted into first. Roddy’s eyes Bugged out as Herbie drove away from the curb and onto the street, immediately going into panic. ‘No way this car’s got any Tesla crap!’ He thought, clutching the door and his seatbelt, ‘This thing’s possessed!’ As soon as Herbie stopped gently down the block, Roddy quickly emerged and ran out to face the car.

“Y-you’re alive!?” He yelled, inadvertently too loud, as Herbie shut his own open door. Upon seeing this, Roddy felt his chest and continued, “Y-you’re not just a race car, aren’t you? You’re just some magic car that can, that can do tricks or something!” Herbie offered no reply, his headlights seeming to stare right at Roddy as innocently as the little car could. A passing SUV noticed Roddy yelling at Herbie and seemed to drive faster away from them.

“Okay, um, okay…” He sighed, regaining his composure before looking back at Herbie, “I guess, two for yes, once for no. Um, first of, you’re not going to kill me, are you?”

One honk met Roddy’s ears, and he replied, “Ok, well… Were you always… alive?”

Two honks. “Okay, is there anyone else out there alive like you?” Roddy continued.

Herbie shifted side to side on his suspension, as if to shrug, then replied with one honk.

“And do you know why you’re alive?” Roddy offered one more question.

Another long moment was spent with Herbie shifting side to side, then finally one single honk.

“Ok,” Roddy rubbed his head as he approached Herbie, “This is all pretty new to me, I’ve never had a living car before, but...” He paused, then continued, “I think I could get used to this. Mind if we become friends? I promise I’ll do what I can to treat you ok.” Two happy honks met Roddy’s ears and he smiled, climbing back into Herbie.

“Alright,” he nodded, “I guess I’m friends with a race car now.” As he slipped on his seatbelt, he added, “Wait till my friends see this. Ok Herbie, I guess back to Carole’s then.”

Herbie revved his engine and returned quickly to Carole’s house, coming to a stop at the entrance to the driveway. Carole was outside, and could already notice that Roddy and Herbie had already developed a relationship, seeing as Roddy petted Herbie’s fender after he emerged from the car. Coming towards them, she too petted Herbie before facing Roddy.

“Bit of a shock, isn’t it?” She asked knowingly.

“Kinda is!” Roddy beamed, “But honestly, it-HE’S very exciting.”

“I won’t tell you all he can do,” Carole teased lightly, “I’ll let you find that out on your own.”

“By all means!” Roddy grinned, “I’ve honestly never had a friend be a car before, but it’ll be cool!”

“Very good, now would you like to discuss the boring paperwork stuff?” She smirked.

“I guess,” Roddy replied, “But first, why sell a car this special?”

“Ah, see,” She began, “I’m getting on in years and can’t really bring Herbie out for even a Sunday drive anymore. I spend a lot of time at home painting and I hate seeing the little guy in the garage.” A weary bleat of Herbie’s horn punctuated her, then she continued, “So I hoped if I told nobody about who he was, he’d go to a good home quickly.”

“Wow,” Roddy nodded, “I got it. I guess we can discuss business now.”

“Perfect.” Carole agreed as she turned around, “Come on in, I just made some tea.”

After an hour of boring paperwork and talks of Jim and Herbie’s races, Roddy got Herbie’s ownership and registration papers, paid the full price, and was now driving home with a big smile on his face. He knew he had to show the little car off to his friends, they’d never believe it! Heck, he wasn’t sure he could believe it. But first things first, he had to face his parents at home.

His mother had stayed home from the restaurant today to clean the house, so she was the first one to see the race car roll up onto the driveway and park where Roddy’s Honda used to park. She furrowed her brow and put down the rag and spray bottle she was holding and hurried her way out the back door, over to her very sheepishly-smiling son.

“What’s this?” She asked, gesturing to Herbie “I thought you were getting a newer car.”

“Technically, this is.” Roddy answered, pulling out a manila envelope from Herbie’s passenger seat and handing it to his mom, “I made sure to get all of the service documents from the owner and inspected the car myself.”

As his mother leafed through the services, she felt some relief that her son was responsible enough to go through all of this and asked, “Who taught you how to be so good with cars?”

“Well, when your car breaks down super frequently,” He said, “you tend to learn a lot of how to do things to your car to make it work.” His mother nodded and handed him back the service papers.

“Keep these safe, ok?” She said, “And I’ll let you keep the car if you promise me you can stay safe on the road.”

“Scout’s honor.” Roddy saluted, then hugged his mom tightly, adding, “Thank you so much.”

“Mmm, you’re welcome.” She smiled back, hugging her son. As soon as she let go, she then said, “Now report to the restaurant, we have a few takeout deliveries that need getting done and I don’t want anymore delays, I’ll be there for the closing and cleanup.”

“Ok.” Roddy nodded, “You mind if I hang out with my friends after?”

“Just be safe driving.” His mother repeated, “I know you have your curfew.”

Mother and son hugged again before Roddy got back into Herbie and headed for the family restaurant. As they drove, Roddy took his hands off the wheel and pulled his cellphone out to text his friends, all the while paying attention to where Herbie was going and directing him to the restaurant.

“Got new car, wanna hang out this afternoon?” He typed to his friend Charlie.

“New car? What happened to the Honda?” Charlie replied.

“Broke down, been taking bus to school.” Roddy returned.

“Gotcha, want me to tell Jackson?” Charlie wrote. Roddy thought for a moment.

“Sure,” He texted back, “We can head out for burgers tonight.”

“Cool, cya then.” Charlie finished. Roddy set his phone down, satisfied, and took over the wheel, now talking to Herbie.

“I hope you don’t mind being used as a delivery car,” He said, “It’s kind of what I do for a job.” Herbie beeped as if to say he didn’t mind, and Roddy nodded, adding, “Cool, ok, here we are.”

(o\ ! /o)

Charlie Padalecki stepped out the back door of The Coffee Pot café and whipped the black visor off her head. She took her apron off and undid her bun’s hair tie, letting her brown-black hair cascade down her face. She then tied it back into a ponytail and sighed, looking at her phone. Roddy told her that afternoon, and she was already off her shift at 5PM. The smell of the dumpster nearby made her walk around to the front of the café, where a line of people were already around the block, eager for their afternoon coffee fix. Shimmying past the line, Charlie looked up to see a little car in racing colors pulling to a stop right in front of her against the curb. The passenger door opened on its own, revealing Roddy sitting in the driver’s seat.

“Oh nice, you made it.” She said in her usual, deadpan voice. After climbing into Herbie, she threw her items in the back seat and looked around, commenting, “It’s small.”

“Small, I’m sure, but really all I need.” Roddy nodded as she closed the door. Putting Herbie into first gear, Roddy then drove away from the busy store. As he drove, he asked, “Did you get a hold of Evergreen?”

“Jackson?” Charlie clarified, “Yeah, he said he’d be meeting us out by the ‘In n’ Out’ in South Gate.

“Sounds good.” Roddy nodded, directing Herbie onto the freeway.

As they entered one end of freeway, Herbie saw a lot of the cars around him begin to speed up, quiet rapidly. Roddy upshifted into another gear and gingerly put in some power, allowing the Bug to scoot in amongst the traffic. Charlie and Roddy spent part of the drive in silence; Charlie was more interested in catching up with her social media while Roddy was listening to every noise he thought could be wrong with Herbie. After a few minutes, Charlie put her phone down and turned to Roddy.

“So, why did you buy a race car?” She asked.

“He was cheap on Craigslist,” Roddy answered, “Bought him today and then got the registration done in between deliveries.”

“I’m sorry, he ?” She noted, incredulous, “Car’s a he?”

“Yeah,” Roddy nodded, “He came pre-named from the owner.”

“What’s the name then, Bug?” She offered dryly.

“Herbie.” He announced with pride, “Apparently was the uncle of a friend of the original owner.”

“Herbie.” Charlie repeated, noting how clean the little car’s interior was, “I guess there are worse names out there.”

“I like it.” Roddy said, downshifting to get ahead of a slower car, “And it’s cute.”

“I mean,” Charlie began, then left her statement there, going back to her phone.

As the trio was close to South Gate, a loud noise from the back suddenly caught Roddy’s attention, glancing in Herbie’s mirror to see it. Herbie beeped softly in confusion before a group of tuner cars suddenly shot past them on the highway. Each customized performance machine had bright neons undersides, searing LEDs, and enormous, wide exhausts pumping the smell of gasoline and an enormous din into the air. Roddy grimaced and covered one ear from the noise while Charlie remained non-reactive.

“Don’t mind him.” Charlie said, eyes focused on her phone, “He’s got nothing better to do.” While Roddy was able to ignore them, Herbie minded them plenty and began to speed up.

“Uh, what’re you doing?” Roddy asked Herbie, taking his foot off the gas to press the brake. However, upon depressing both the clutch and brakes, nothing was happening.

“What’s going on?” Charlie wondered, watching Roddy fiddle with the controls, “Did the brakes give out?”

“No the brakes didn’t-!” Roddy started, but couldn’t finish as he was jerked forward by the brakes. Herbie had pulled up next to one of the tuner cars, a pearlescent Mitsubishi that was glowing orange. Charlie got thrown forward too and dropped her phone on the floor, swearing under her breath.

“I swear, Roddy, if this is another one of your dumb driving trucks.” Charlie began, picking her phone up and noticing the cars were level.

“I swear, this isn’t me for once.” Roddy defended, then whispered to Herbie, “What’re you doing now?”

Herbie revved his engine at the Mitsubishi, looking for a race. The Mitsubishi’s driver glanced over at the old 1960s car right next to their own and let out a raucous rev in return, the tailpipe suddenly popping with flames with every power peak. The road beyond the two cars was now clear for a good distance, enough to see who was faster. Roddy gave the Mitsubishi driver a nervous wave as Charlie decided to use the handhold swinging above her head.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you about doing this!” She yelped, grabbing onto it tightly and pushing herself into her seat.

The Mitsubishi flashed its high-beams once, twice, then three times. At the third, the sports sedan shot forward and left Herbie quickly behind. Feeling as if he was worried over nothing, Roddy allowed his shoulders to sink and his hands to grip lower down the wheel…

The relaxation lasted for a mere millisecond before Herbie suddenly reared up on his back wheels, revved his engine loud, then surged forward after the Mitsubishi. Roddy and Charlie were left screaming as Herbie shot down the freeway like a bullet as his front wheels skidded back down onto the pavement. The Mitsubishi driver didn’t even see Herbie coming, as the little car swerved to the left right behind them, then suddenly appeared on the front, causing the Mitsubishi driver to to floor the brakes, their tires squealing in agony.

Herbie wasn’t done, however, as his engine revved higher and he proceeded to weave, swerve, and dodges his way through the other bewildered tuner cars. Seeing the exit coming up fast, Roddy stopped screaming to tear Herbie’s steering wheel to the right. Stamping on the clutch and brake again, Herbie skidded right and hopped the median, narrowly avoiding hitting a gardening truck before skidding onto the exit ramp and coming to an intense stop at the stoplight. Charlie’s belongings clattered to the floor behind them as both adults tried to regain their bearings.

“What… the hell… was that.” Charlie gasped after remaining catatonically still for a few seconds. She then turned to Roddy, her face demanding an answer.

“I, uh…” Roddy stammered, now driving Herbie on autopilot (or was Herbie driving himself?) as his limbs moved of their own accord, his mind still trying to comprehend what was going on. After a couple stoplights, all he could say was, “I… bought a racecar?”

Jackson Furse was waiting for them at the In n’ Out when the two arrived, sitting inside his Mercedes-Benz G-wagon SUV. His curly afro waved and wagged in the Santa Ana breeze, and he was still in his ranger uniform from working all day. Upon seeing the odd racecar enter the parking lot, Jackson got down and followed the Bug until it parked in a space next to him. A weary Roddy and a still nonplussed Charlie emerged from the little car, and both took some time until they noticed Jackson’s existence.

“Oh, hey.” Roddy blurted out.

“Hey.” Charlie greeted softly.

“Hey, you two look like you’ve been in some kind of tornado.” Jackson noted, “What happened?”

“New car.” Roddy replied, gesturing to Herbie.

“We almost died.” Charlie added, “It was weird.”

“I’ll bet.” Jackson whistled as he approached Herbie, “Then again, I don’t know what about a little car like this would make you two look like you were in some kinda storm.” He then kicked Herbie’s left rear tire lightly, adding, “But it’s still cool you got this. How much, Rod?”

“Two thousand,” Roddy said, a little louder and regaining his composure.

“This clean?” Jackson was impressed, “Damn, where’s your luck when I need it?”

“Out to lunch, probably.” Charlie sighed, regaining her own composure too before asking Roddy, “Mind not driving like that ever again? Think I’d rather stick those kinds of thrills to Ghost Rider.”

“I’ll definitely try not to!” Roddy replied, blushing with embarrassment as he gave Herbie a cautious look. He hoped the Bug had heard him.

“Anyway,” Jackson began, feeling the tension among them, “Wanna go get some burgers now? I’ve been pretty hungry all day.”

“Uh, sure!” Roddy nodded.

“Sounds good.” Charlie nodded with a small smile, heading for the door.

Before they could enter however, the familiar sounds of loud, almost destructive levels of exhaust filled the air as the tuners from earlier had arrived at the In n’ Out too. The Mitsubishi, flanked by a bloated Subaru sedan and a lean, almost smugly-styled Honda coupe, all parked nearby and their drivers soon got out and approached the trio. One was a Latino with spiky black hair, a thin moustache, and a red leather coat, and judging by the Mitsubishi key in his hand, Roddy knew this was the guy he showed up. Another was a paler Latino in a hoodie, while the third was an Asian in a shirt that read “Anti Social Social Club.”

“Ey, I saw your Bug out there.” He nodded to Roddy, looking over to Herbie. His voice was harsh from cigarettes and his eyes were sharp, aimed square at the smaller Asian.

“Uh, yeah, what about it?” Roddy gulped nervously, hoping he wouldn’t get thrashed for upstaging a bunch of tuners. Charlie and Jackson held their breath, hoping this wouldn’t lead to a fight. The Mitsubishi driver’s eyes narrowed as he motioned with his right hand, pulling it back and then… offering it to Roddy.

“Nice car out there, man.” He smiled, “Definitely didn’t expect it, but had my friends howlin’ with laughter.”

“Yeah, man!” The other Latino grinned, “We saw your car go up, we thought it was gonna flip!”

“Oh! Well, uh,” Roddy stammered, giving the driver a high-five handshake, “Thanks! Honestly, was just a bit of skill.”

“Hey, hone that skill, man.” The Mitsubishi driver grinned, shaking Roddy’s hand firmly, “I’m Jose, but people call me J. Behind me’s Eric and Lee.” The Subaru and Honda driver waved, respectively.

“Ah, thanks!” Roddy smiled back, hiding his nervousness, “Uh, this is Charlie and Jackson, my friends.”

“Hi!” Jackson replied cheerfully.

“What up.” Charlie nodded her head.

“Alright, enough greetings, man.” Lee cocked his head to the door, “Let’s get some burgers.”

“True that.” Jose nodded, then turned to Roddy, “Oh, before I forget. If you’re interested, we’re going to a track day at Jackrabbit Springs in a couple weeks, and honestly we’d love to see what your bug can do.” He then handed Roddy a business card, which found its way into Roddy’s wallet.

“Whoa, thanks!” He grinned, “Never been in a track day before.”

“Hey, first time for everything.” Jose agreed, “Now let’s eat!”

After six of the most delicious burgers ever had by anyone on earth, the tuners left to go cruise around more while Roddy, Charlie, and Jackson stayed behind to talk amongst their cars. Jackson was sipping on what remained of his shake while Charlie was sat on Herbie’s fender, scanning through her phone. Roddy, now energized from the meal, was pacing in front of them and fielding questions from the curious Jackson.

“So, when you said he’s alive,” He asked, “does that mean like Christine alive where he’s gonna kill us or Knight Rider but he doesn’t talk?”

“The latter, really.” Roddy nodded, “I asked early and he said he doesn’t really kill.”

“Uh-huh…” Jackson nodded, slight skepticism in his voice, “And he told you this himself?”

“Hey, I wasn’t a believer when I woke up this morning.” Roddy chuckled, “Things just sorta..  Happened.”

“Hopefully things happen much more safer from now on,” Charlie commented, not looking up from her phone, “Remember what your mom always says.”

“Yeah, I know.” Roddy nodded, then turned to Jackson, “If you don’t believe me, can try him out for yourself.”

“You sure?” Jackson perked up, hopping over and tossing his empty cup in the garbage.

“Sure, why not. A run around the block will do you good.” Roddy cleared Charlie from Herbie’s fender and offered Jackson the key. “Just don’t break him,” He added, “He is new after all.”

“Alright, sure.” Jackson took the key, climbed into Herbie, and started up the engine. He then peeked his head out the window to say, “See? Normal?”

“Oh, wait for it.” Roddy warned, watching as Herbie suddenly rolled his window up and backed out of the parking spot.

“Hey, wait!” Jackson panicked, “I’m not doing this! This thing’s doing it by itself!”

“He can do more, you know!” Roddy yelled out, “Best not call him a thing!”

“I didn’t agree to this, this is entrapment!” Jackson yelled, but the rest of it was drowned out as Herbie left the parking lot and quickly accelerated away, out of sight. Roddy and Charlie watched in silence for a few seconds, then resumed standing around.

“You got to experience Herbie, Charlie,” Roddy began, “What do you think’ll happen here?”

“Who knows.” Charlie shrugged, “Maybe Jackson’s just… dead.”

They soon got their answer as Herbie rolled in again, carrying a dazed and confused Jackson. The lanky man got up, stumbled out of the car, then laid down on the dirty concrete curb. Roddy and Charlie looked at each other before glancing down at Jackson, while Herbie closed his own door and posed, very self-satisfied with himself.

“You ok, dude?” Charlie wondered, kneeling over him and poking at his chest. After a short while, Jackson let out a strained cough and flopped his head over, clearly playing dead. Charlie rolled her eyes and got up.

“Come on, wimp.” Roddy smirked, helping Jackson to his feet as he said, “You gotta admit, he’s a lot better than my old Honda.”

“Yeah.” Jackson said hoarsely, catching his breath and clearing his throat, “I agree, he’s a good car.”

“I guess.” Charlie nodded, glancing over at Herbie with a small smile.

“Settles it, I guess.” Roddy smiled proudly, looking to his brand new car and brand new friend, announcing, “Welcome to the family, Herbie.”

Herbie flashed his headlights and revved his engine, as happy as they were to have a new home with a wonderful owner and his friends.

(o\ | The End |/o)