by Al Daniels
Bob was just a guy who would do anything for you. I, being blind, needed a buddy like Bob. Bob was always willing to help. He knew I couldn't get to the grocery without him. He was like family. I grew up next to his ramshackle saltbox of a house. He wasn't good at lawn mowing, painting, or carpentry. But, if you asked him for the URL for any electronics distributor, he could rattle it off. The city it originated from, how their prices ran, and what would be the likely time requirement for delivery, he would know it. We lived in Maine, and I loved the clean fresh air along the shoreline. Time away from Maine's rocky shore was usually short-lived. Wherever I went people knew of the lifestyle Downeast. First things asked would be, "How's the fishing?" and "Do you have lobster for dinner every day?" Scattered sandy fields grew potatoes, but not where we lived. The area was filled with scrub pine, and I had a large shady oak out front of my place. It was about 300 feet from my place to Bob's. I could make my way down the road to Bob's, and from there, the sky was the limit. Did I want to go to the airport? Bob was there. Did I need to reach the train station and journey down the coast to Beantown? Bob was ready again.
In those days I was a programmer, in demand who knows where. Troubleshooting was a little simpler than today. There were fewer operating systems, and I had been trained in the Beltway around D.C. The New England coast was where I grew up, things having changed and not changed. What do they say, "You can take the boy out of the country, but you can't take the country out of the boy?" New England gets a bad rap. Sure, there are days that begin foggy and gray, but they usually end sunny and cool. And the storms are not any worse than the tornadoes of the Midwest. It seems the hurricanes that come up the coast are somewhat tired by the time they reach the coast of Maine.
I was hoping to go into town to visit the big box store, get some much-needed items, like printer paper, some latex paint for the deck and maybe a new pair of jeans. Bob was right there. I had called over to his place and Bob was all for it. He needed something from the big box, too. I had my white cane in hand and made my way over to Bob's place in anticipation. We were buddies, and I knew we'd probably stop for fish and chips as well.
He was on his porch and gave a big hallooo. "So what is it today, friend? So you want to buy out the store?"
"Naw, Bob, I just want to get a few things, and maybe we can stop at the Outlook for lunch."
Bob gave a belly laugh. "I'm always up for lunch. Get in the car and I'll be right there." If nothing else, Bob was as honest as the day is long, but his girth had grown immensely over the years. His diet was fraught with fast food and starches. The humble potato and the electronic genius were well acquainted. Various attempts at dieting were destined for failure, mainly due to his lack of cooking ability. The better half had given up in despair; dieting for Bob was impossible. The ill-fated marriage doomed the well-intentioned cook he once had.
Bob's car was a mild-mannered Toyota Corolla and great on gas. I climbed in the passenger side and buckled up. Bob slammed the front door to his place, lumbered down the steps and lowered himself into the driver's seat. He started the engine with no hesitation. "Whoops, I forgot my wallet. Need that if we're headed for town!" It was like him; he'd forget his head if it wasn't attached. He got out of the car, climbed up the steps and into the front of the salt box. The car was still running. I sat waiting patiently.
And then a freaky thing happened. The car, not waiting for its ebullient master, started to back up, pull out onto the two-lane and drive away. That would have been of little consequence had I not been in the passenger seat. The car, like my friend Bob, was a bit eccentric. More than eccentric, possessed, possessed of its own mind. Could it have just been rolling? No, the car had backed out of the drive and shifted into drive, then accelerated. I was in a runaway vehicle. My foot reached over to the brake pedal, with no result. This was too much! I couldn't open the door and jump out, although the thought did occur to me. It felt like the car was moving about 40 miles an hour. Even if I could control the car's mad progress, I had never driven a car with a lack of vision. The steering mechanism was powerless to my efforts of control. It seemed that I was proceeding down the road with little or no difficulty as to staying on the pavement. I could hear passing vehicles and there was no collision. Could it be less calamitous not to see the dangers or to be looking on the near-death happenings? I thought my time for this world was limited. Would Bob be angry? I imagined he'd be livid, especially if we ended up smashing up somewhere and it appeared to be my fault! I didn't do a thing! How could I tell him that the car started off by itself? He'd never believe me!
"Bob," I yelled. "Bob, what's the thing with your car? Bob, Bob, Bob!!!" And then the car rolled to a stop, backed up and did a K-turn and reversed direction. The thing had a mind of its own. It was traveling back where we had come from. It zipped down the blacktop like an entry in the Indy 500. I braced myself in the seat. I was already buckled in, but felt greatly unprepared for the crash that I felt was imminent. The cool shore breeze blew in the window, and if my friend were at the wheel, it would have been an enjoyable ride. The car and I proceeded back toward Bob's place like a lost sheep finding its way home. We passed the bend and approached what I imagined would be the starting point. The car started slowing down, sounding the turn signal and pulling into the drive. We rolled to a stop and the engine died.
I heard Bob's voice yelling from somewhere, "Oh, there you are!"
"Yes, here I am, I didn't do it, Bob! Honest, I didn't do anything. It's crazy! The car drove away by itself."
"A likely story, little buddy. You were going without me. How did you know I have a GPS-controlled drive?"
"I didn't know, Bob. The car was playing a trick on me and you, I guess."
"How did you get the control to bring it back?"
"I don't know, but I just yelled your name, and it turned around to bring me back to you."
"Yes, I guess I did put that in the command file. It will find me wherever I am if it is instructed. The GPS control is working fine. I just have to get a few bugs out of it, like don't drive away and leave me behind. Gee, buddy, thanks for helping me work with it."