As the second exit nears, I start getting anxious. Please make the turn. I grab the wheel again, hoping that by some miracle I’ll be able to move the steering wheel, but it doesn’t budge. The black car doesn’t slow down for even a second as it zooms past the exit.
More exits come and go and I start getting more and more worried. It doesn’t look like we are going to stop in Nashville. The next major city is Louisville, and that isn’t for another 180 miles. I won’t be able to hold it that long. I look over at Tabby to see how she’s holding up. She’s not crossing her legs either but I imagine she is going to need a bathroom break soon also. I know not to underestimate the small size of animals; they can take a pretty healthy dump that can smell up an entire house. Magnetize that by a hundred when you’re stuck in a tiny car.
It feels like we’ve been on this outer belt for hours when I see a sign that says we’re two miles from I-65. I know if we take that turn there will be no stopping in Nashville. I slam my hands against the steering wheel and shout obscenities my mother wouldn’t be proud of. Having no control over a vehicle is very frustrating.
As I see the turn ahead, I hope we don’t make the merge right. I start muttering to myself “Please don’t turn. Please don’t turn. Please don’t turn.” When we get up to the exit though, my fears come to fruition.
“Damn it!”
As we merge onto I-65, I look out the rear view mirror at Nashville behind me. Who knows if I’ll live to see it again.
With Nashville fading further into the background, I wonder where we are going next. There are little towns here and there, but I can’t imagine a reason to stop at any of them. As much as I am an optimist, I can’t picture the black car stopping at a rest stop. Louisville maybe, but even that seems doubtful. We didn’t stop in Nashville so why would we stop in Louisville?
I realize then I have to take matters into my own hands. I have to either find a way to take control of this car or smash through one of the windows and jump out. At ninety miles per hour, the latter option is likely suicide, but if I can at least have the glass broken through so I’m ready, there may be an opportunity to jump if the black car slows down for some reason.
I start with option A, taking control of the car. There aren’t many buttons on this machine but I push them all, not caring what they say they claim to do. I even try pushing multiple buttons together in different combinations. I’m just hoping for some blind luck that there’s some combination or bug in the system that allows me driving access.
When nothing works, I resort to smashing and kicking the dashboard. I wish I could say things started to break, but the inside of the car seems to be as durable as the outside.
As technologically advanced as this car is, I don’t think kicking buttons is going to do anything. Since I’m filled with rage, I move to option B, smashing through windows. I throw Tabby in the backseat to protect her from my crazy episode. I lean back, and with the heel of my foot I start kicking as hard as I can at the driver’s side window. Kick after kick does no harm to the window or my foot. In my last fit of rage I get the wise idea to punch the glass with my hand and instantly realize what a stupid idea this was. I rarely drop the F-bomb, but I leash out a few of them. Then I remember I have my ax. How could I forget about the ax sitting on the passenger seat floorboard?
The car is small, so I can’t give it my full on baseball swing but I give it all I have. The side window has no chance of breaking, though. I shot my gun at it, so why would an ax do anything?
I look back at Tabby, who’s studying me with interest. When I look up I realize the only window I haven’t tried to break is the back window. It seems pointless but if I don’t give it a try I’ll drive myself crazy until I do.
“Come here Tabby, you need to go back to the front seat,” I say as I toss her to the front.
When I get in the back seat, I realize I can put a pretty good swing together with this extra room. I take a deep breath, then build up all the rage inside of me I can muster and make the hardest swing I can.
When the ax breaks through the back window, I’m so surprised I almost lose my grip. It cuts through the glass like a knife going through butter. Glass flies back everywhere as I close my eyes and turn my head away.
When I look out the window, I see glass skipping and bouncing its way across the highway behind me. The sound of the wind coming from the back window is quite loud. I stick my hand out to feel it, and I’m amazed by how much force there is at this speed.
I take my ax and keep chipping away at the rest of the glass. The wind makes it easy, and before I know it I have the entire back window all cleared out.
With this gaping hole, I turn into the scared parent and realize if Tabby gets too close to that back window the force of the wind will take her away. I’ll need to keep constant watch of her to make sure she doesn’t try to get out.
I look out the window again and wonder if there’s a way to jump without killing Tabby or myself. Is there some way I can soften the blow? Looking around, I see there’s not much to work with. I could take apart one of the seats and use it as a cushion but something tells me this wouldn’t go as planned. I’m not at a desperate enough stage yet to actually consider doing this. For now, I wait and hope there’s a time when I can grab Tabby and jump out the window. Images flash in my head of what the black car would do if we escaped. Would it turn itself around and try to run us over, or would it keep on driving? There are many mysteries about this car I feel I’ve yet to find out.
For now, I think I’ve exhausted all my good ideas. I look through the front window and see we’re still moving forward too fast. I lie down in the backseat to think and rest. I don’t plan on napping; if we make some kind of turn I don’t want to miss it.
I lie there and the moment I close my eyes, Tabby jumps on my belly and lies down. I start petting her and she purrs her approval. It only takes a couple minutes before she closes her eyes and falls asleep. Sleeping and purring, Tabby is in little kitty heaven. If she only knew what kind of danger she’s in.
Seeing her this relaxed does ease some of my tension, though. It’s kind of like when you see someone yawn in a meeting and it sets off a chain reaction of yawns. Seeing Tabby falling asleep makes me close my eyes and, before I know it, I drift off as well.
When I wake up, realization takes over and I jump forward. How long was I asleep? When I look out the window, I still see a long stretch of highway in front of me.
Tabby wakes up when I push her off me but quickly falls back asleep. I really need to go to the bathroom now. I can’t hold it any longer. Fortunately, for now it’s just number one. I look out the back window to see if I can make this work. I take my pants completely off. Tabby opens her eyes, wondering what on Earth I’m doing. Her attention fades and falls back asleep.
There’s a short area above the seats that I can lie on. When I try to get into position, though, I realize my body is too big. With one leg down on the seat, I adjust my body so it’s sort of in position. When I let it go, the wind takes it out like a vacuum sucking up dirt. This is working much better than I expected and provides some entertainment value as well. As I finish, the stream comes back and some of it gets on my leg. The warm, wet feeling is gross but in the end it was well worth it. I feel much better now.
I go back up to the front seat and put my pants back on. When I look back, I expect to see Tabby still asleep but she isn’t there. When I see her above the seat my mouth drops. She jumped up to the window and is now inches away from falling out!
“Tabby, no! Get away from there.” But she doesn’t even look back at me. She walks through the back window, not knowing the strong force of the wind would take her away. By the time I reach to grab her, it’s too late.