As the asphalt stretches out before him, Eamon’s car purrs smoothly, the recent diesel service ensuring every component runs in harmony. Eamon has always been one to appreciate a smooth ride, but today, the road feels more like an escape route than a pleasure drive. The warm orange of the setting sun contrasts sharply with the cold dread pooling in his stomach.
The mechanic’s workshop flashes in his rearview mirror, a reminder of the earlier events. He’d sought out the best mechanic in the Raceview area for a swift diesel service, making sure his car was primed for a long, uninterrupted journey away from the impending chaos.
His mind drifts back to the moment he’d handed over his keys, casually mentioning his intention to leave Raceview for a while. The mechanic, with a knowing glint in his eye, had simply nodded. “Well, if you ever need to book a professional diesel service again, you know where to find me,” he’d said. Eamon had grimaced. Would there even be a Raceview to come back to?
As the car eats up the miles, the weight of guilt becomes increasingly cumbersome. He recalls Arlen’s face when Eamon told him he was leaving – a mix of hurt, resignation, and fear. They had been partners in every sense of the word, always having each other’s back. And now, Eamon was leaving Arlen to deal with the Celestial Mechanism’s malfunction alone.
He imagines Arlen standing resolutely by the ancient clock tower, trying to decipher the spells and rituals needed to restore the balance. The thought of his friend facing the increasingly aggressive supernatural forces without him is unbearable. They were the yin and yang, the perfect balance of light and dark.
Gripping the steering wheel tighter, Eamon’s inner turmoil comes to a climax. “Damn you, Arlen!” he shouts. With a frustrated groan, he swerves the car onto the next exit, heading back to Raceview. The smooth hum of his car, evidence of the impeccable diesel service, provides little comfort now. The only thing that will is doing what’s right.
And with Raceview’s skyline on the horizon, Eamon accelerates, rushing back to the friend he’d almost left behind.
When I was a little kid, I always thought that cars equalled freedom. On some level, I still believe that – there’s a certain sense of convenience that I can’t help but associate with feeling unburdened. Over the course of my adult life, though, I’ve gradually come to realise that freedom and convenience are not one and the same. In fact, convenience can sometimes curtail freedom, as I discovered last winter when my car wouldn’t start.
Turns out, the Easter long weekend isn’t the worst time for your kid to practise their driving. I was pretty against taking Janice out on the road when she first mentioned it, as I’d been looking forward to kicking back outside the steely grip of traffic. But I’m happy I agreed to it because, by Monday, she’d gotten a lot of hours in and improved her driving game significantly.
What do you call someone who knows absolutely nothing about cars? You call them… well, me. At least, you do if you are me, which presumably you’re not, but you know what I mean. Regardless, it’s just come to my attention that I’m extremely reliant on auto specialists to make my car go.