Grandpa's New Ride by Katie Leone

Grandpa has an old ride, ancient, a relic really; when he decides to change it for a new one, his grandson Scott jumps at the chance to join him at the auction. A fun sci-fi romp by one of BigCloset and DopplerPress's favorite authors.

Moved here from the HatBox, also available through Amazon.

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Grandpa Tom is an eccentric old bat, but I love him. If ever I need to put a smile on my face, I think of the old man – gloom and doom don’t stand a chance against some of the antics grandpa told me about. Whether or not his stories are true is beside the point, the conviction in which they are told was more than worth the price of admission. 

     Of course, not everyone in the family appreciates Grandpa’s showmanship or his set ways for that matter, but I think it’s those things that make him unique. Grandpa has a certain way he wants things done, and if you deviate from his routine, there will be hell to pay. I don’t mind putting up with his idiosyncrasies; as a high school senior, I’ve had to deal with many bizarre requests, whether from my teachers or my folks, so I’m able to adapt. Though my parents have issues being around the old coot, I find it amusing, sometimes amazing, but seldom boring. 

     The thing I enjoy the most is my grandfather’s astounding philosophies on life. He is a very opinionated person, and those opinions often fly in the face of conventional wisdom – it’s probably the reason I love him so much; who wants to be a tape recorder that just spews out whatever it’s told. I want to be my own person, and there’s no one better to learn from than Grandpa Tom. 

     With the relationship between my parents and Grandpa Tom strenuous at best, I don’t get to spend that much time with him. When he asked me to accompany him to the auction so he could pick up a new ride, I jumped at the chance to spend a day with him. Any time with Grandpa Tom was a treat, but at a place like the auction, in public like that, the joy may never end. With a man so set in his ways as he was, I was kind of surprised that he was going to trade in his old ride for something newer. He had his current ride ever since I had known him, and that’s saying a lot in this day and age where things go out of fashion every few years. 

     I stood at the corner. Grandpa wanted to be around my parents just as much as they wanted to be around him. He knew that they would try to talk him out of getting a newer ride, worried that even more of my inheritance was slipping away. I didn’t care about the money though, and Grandpa Tom certainly had more than enough to spare; if it made the old coot happy, then it’s a bonus. 

     Cars whizzed by me on the main highway that ran across the road I lived on. You didn’t hear them; you could barely even see them; you only felt the wind blow against you as they passed and heard the rush of the air. No, these days, cars were quiet, clean, and efficient, at least for most people. You could hear grandpa’s old Jalopy coming a mile away. 

     I heard the roar of the gigantic V8 before I even caught glimpse of Grandpa motoring in the far right lane that was reserved for broken down motorists and people driving old dinosaurs. He was coming from the north, meaning he took the surface route and bypassed going on the hyper-expressway. I doubt the car could maintain the 120 miles per hour minimum speed limit anyway, and that meant we would have a long, slow drive to the auction house. 

     Then I saw it, and what a sight it was, a 1956 Oldsmobile Rocket 88. The paint was faded and I was certain it rattled as it made it down the street. Grandpa was proud of his car though; it was well maintained, but it was a relic. He had to fight the courts three times just to keep the old beast on the road; there was hardly any places to get fuel for it anymore, but Grandpa, ever set in his ways, was hell bent on driving his Daisy into infinity and would stop at no length to ensure he got his way. 

     The car screeched to a halt a few feet away from me. 

     I chuckled to myself “Brakes,” I said, reminding myself that there was a time when such devices were needed to bring a vehicle to a halt. 

     Grandpa reached over to the passenger side and opened the door. The handle on my side quit working decades ago, and if someone wanted to get in, it was the driver’s duty to provide access. 

     I looked at the old bucket of rust and bolts; he looked just as worn as the car. The two were made for each other. I hated to admit this to myself, but it would be odd not seeing the old man behind the wheel of Daisy at the end of the day. 

     “Are you getting in or are you going to paint a picture?” Grandpa Tom shouted from the car. 

     I smiled. Grandpa’s orneriness and impatience were a part of the package; you learned to let it slide so you could enjoy his better attributes. “This might be the last time I see you and Daisy together like this, and I wanted to preserve the memory.” 

     Grandpa scoffed. “Don’t start getting all mushy and teary-eyed on me. If I wanted a soap opera, I would have brought your mother and listen to her nag me all day about how getting a new ride flies in the face of heritage. This is hard enough without the drama and the emotion, so let’s save that for a depressing, rainy day.” 

     I climbed into the car and sank into the bench seat. The door weighed almost as much as a modern vehicle, and it took some effort to get it to close. 

     “You kids these days are soft,” Grandpa said. “When I was your age, a boy took pride in his strength. Now all you kids take pride in are getting the high score on your gizmos.” 

     I held open my jacket. “No gizmos here,” I announced. “I know how you don’t approve of them.” 

     “There are reasons you’re my favorite, Scott, and that’s one of them. Unlike some of these fools, you’re able to disengage from technology and live in the real world for a moment.” 

     “For those worth it,” I said as I put an actual seatbelt on. 

     “No one likes a kiss ass, Scott, no one.” 

     I chuckled because I knew the old man was touched but hated ever admitting to it. “I’ll make a note of that. No one likes a kiss ass,” I mimicked. “No one.” 

     We sat in silence as I watched the old man work the transmission. Such an antiquated contraption was the car that Grandpa Tom might be the only man alive who knew how to operate such a relic. There were actual cables and pulleys attached to the massive engine that made this thing move and the readouts were something called analog. It was almost like poetry in motion – bad poetry, but poetry nonetheless. Driving this car was a lot of work. It took a hundred times more effort to get the antique moving than it would for a new vehicle, but maybe that’s why Grandpa was so well maintained. 

     I almost forgot to manually strap myself into the contraption as it started to lumber down the road. “I take it we’re sticking to the back roads.” 

     Grandpa was too busy concentrating on the paved streets to give me a sour look. “This old ride can’t take the hyper-ways,” he said with a subtle mixture of anger and regret in his voice. “It’s not as responsive as some of these new models and I’m afraid it wouldn’t be able to keep up with everything buzzing about around it.” 

     I settled in, it was going to be a long ride, might even take a good bit of an hour out of my life. “I don’t mind. It’ll be nice to see the scenery for a change.” 

     “It’ll be good for you,” Grandpa said. “One thing I learned through the years is that you have to learn to slow down and disengaged from technology for a while or you wind up turning into a mindless drone that no one wants later. Sure, the hyperway would be convenient and we could get to our destination in a few minutes, but there’s more to life than speed; there’s comfort and safety to take into consideration.” 

     Grandpa’s philosophies were amazing, and I smiled as he imparted his age old wisdom to me. 

     “Besides that, it gives us time to have a genuine conversation and enjoy each other’s company.” 

     “We talk every day, Grandpa.” 

     Grandpa Tom let out a groan. “Talking over the ‘waves is not the same as talking in the flesh. Sure, we can see each other, but a lot of the nuance is lost. We got so lost in convenience and cyberspace that people forget the benefits of good old fashioned reality.” 

     “I know Grandpa. Over the ‘waves I wouldn’t be able to pick up on whether you’re frustrated or fooling. I can pick up your energy in the car without you even saying a word.” 

     “That’s why I like you, Scott. That’s why I invited you along. You’re one of the few people I know who actually gets it, and it’s a shame that so many people are mistaking the virtual for the real.” 

     “I have you to thank. It’s not like my mom and dad are eager to break away from the ‘chines.” 

     “Don’t be too hard on them. They were raised in a time when there was a big emphasis on relying on the ‘chines as you call them, and I got caught up in the enthusiasm of the day myself. If it was a gadget or a doohickey, your mother had it and mastered its use in a week. It took me a while to come down from the euphoria technology gave, and by then, I had lost your mother to ‘chines. She never was able to pull away, though she made some valiant attempts; convenience is a strong addiction.” 

     “I managed to escape,” I said with a certain amount of pride that most of my peers would feel was misplaced. “I can go hours without being hooked in. Drives some people batty that they can’t reach me, but I put your past advice to good use.” 

     “You had a guardian angel looking out for you. Besides, you’re an old soul; don’t be ashamed of that. People might be frustrated that you’re unhooked, but a big part of their frustration is jealousy that they don’t have the mental prowess to unplug themselves.” 

     “An old soul like you?” 

     It was faint, but Grandpa actually cracked a smile. “Time will tell.” 

     As it often happened, Grandpa Tom and I grew silent for a moment. Only the sound of the car’s engine and the wind whipping through the window could be heard. There was a novelty with being in the ancient Oldsmobile; in the new vehicles, you were going way too fast to have the windows down, even though that’s not an option. I shifted in my seat and looked at the old man at the controls. It would take some getting used to seeing him in a new ride; his personality was perfectly suited for the one he was in. 

     “I can hear you staring at me,” Grandpa Tom said as his eyes never left the road. 

     I chuckled. “Can you now?” 

     “Call it a sixth sense. Though it ain’t worth much these days; a penny for your thoughts?” 

     “Are you really going to get yourself a new ride or is this simply window shopping? I don’t mind either way, but it does seem odd that you’re looking at something now.” 

     “I think it’s about time, don’t you? I’ve had this ride for quite a while, and I’m ready for something else. There comes a time in a ride’s life where it simply stops making sense in keeping it – even the nostalgia isn’t enough. After a while the maintenance isn’t worth the memories. How many weeks did I lose this year having this old boy in the shop?” 

     “I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Around three.” 

     “It was five and one is too many. It’s getting to the point that it’s about to break down more frequently and I don’t have the time, money, or patience to deal with all of that. I could go with a total restoration, but who wants to be in limbo for a month while a ride is getting overhauled. When it was the occasional creek or rattle, I didn’t mind. If the engine coughed once in a while, I could live with it. But now the body’s making too much noise and I don’t know how many miles are left on the odometer. Now there are leaks and it’s seeping gas from somewhere and who knows what other problems are lurking that I don’t know about. It’s better to trade the old boy in while it’s still moving than to wait for some catastrophe and be dead in the water. Besides, don’t think I don’t know about the odor.” 

     I looked surprised. 

     “Don’t play innocent with me. I know all about the odor, I’ve known for a while. People are too polite to mention it to me, but I could see their nose crinkle anytime I’m within a few feet of them. If I knew where the odor was coming from, I would deal with it, instead I hose this thing down with fragrance and it only masks the smell for a little while. The odor is probably from age and there’s little you can do to get rid of it then.” 

     “But aren’t you going to miss the old ride? Some say you got this ride straight from the factory floor.” 

     Grandpa shook his head. “That would be your mother speaking. No, I didn’t get this brand-spanking new; I got it second hand from a little old lady who barely took it out and had no use for it. I struck quite a bargain too, but that was many miles ago and the old boy is in rough shape.” 

     “So the old lady took it out only to go to church and the random run down to the shopping mart? I thought those were lines only suckers fell for.” 

     “Usually,” Grandpa said with a laugh. “But in a small town you get to know people and I would have seen it around, but I never did. Hindsight being twenty-twenty, I’d say I got a good deal out of it.” 

     “There’s one thing I don’t understand.” 

     “Only one thing?” My grandfather had a way with sharp words that didn’t make them sting. It was his way to be a bit of a wise guy, but he was good natured about it. 

     “You’ve done pretty good for yourself financially: your home is paid for, you got plenty in the bank, and I’ve never known you to make an investment that didn’t pan out.” 

     “All that is true. So what’s your point?” 

     “If you have the money, why don’t you go out and get yourself something brand new? You can get something custom ordered even; whatever make, model, style or color that you want.” 

     “Let me give you a bit of advice,” Grandpa said as he straightened up behind the wheel. “New rides are a hassle. Sure they barely have any mileage on them, maybe a test drive or two under their belt, but you never know what you’re getting when you get into one of them. All rides have issues, but you usually don’t find out until it’s too late. And heaven forbid they have a recall, you’re without a ride for a while and in limbo as they do God knows what to fix a problem they promised wouldn’t be there in the first place. Some of those problems aren’t found out until there’s a few fatalities behind it, too. No sirree Bob, that’s not for me. 

     “Then there’s the issue if you really like what you got. It’s hard to get out of a brand new ride without losing your shirt. You think a model is to your liking and it’s not; what are you going to do? You’re stuck with it for God knows how long? 

     “Give me something with a little wear and tear on it, gently used, and with a good track record. At least you know what you’re getting into; you see what problems are there and you know if you can live with them. Then there’s the cost. Do you know how much a brand new ride is?” 

     I opened my mouth to answer, but my grandpa put a finger up at me to tell me to hold my peace. 

     “Too much, that’s how much. They overcharge you just for the new ride smell. To tell you the truth, it’s never been that pleasant to me. All I want is a ride that doesn’t creak, crack, or leak all over the place and you can’t even be sure a new ride will do even those things. I’d rather something with a bit more pedigree to it than that.” 

     “Someone has got to be buying them,” I said. “The ride industry is thriving and they say it’s only going to grow as people are starting to line up for licenses again. I read there are people who get a brand new ride every five years.” 

     “Wealthy people who want to be pampered, that’s who’s buying them. There are some people who desire something new every few years, but, frankly, I don’t see the point. You don’t really get to know a ride if you turn it in too quick. You don’t get to appreciate it either. You don’t even form a bond. If you trade a ride in every few years it never becomes a part of you, you never form a connection, there’s no love. 

     “People like that don’t want the ride, they want the experience of having something new. It’s a shame, because they will never know the joy of having a ride see you through the long haul.” 

      “I don’t want anything new every five years, but if it was up to me, I think I’d still rather something straight from the factory. You get a warranty to protect you from most of that stuff you mentioned grandpa, and at least you know you’re getting something without any blemishes. There would be no stains, no scratches, no scars – so anything that happens to the ride would be all you.” 

     “Spoken like a true teenager.” 

     “That’s what I am; I don’t know any other way to think.” 

     “Scratches and scars and stains add character. Now, I don’t want anything that’s been in a wreck, but a few blemishes add to the beauty of a ride. I’d rather be in something that I know can pull me through some tight spaces instead of having to guess. And those warrantees are the biggest scam going; they give you five or ten years, knowing that even a two bit jalopy can hold out that long. And don’t think for a second that warrantee is free, it all gets figured in the price.” 

     “If it’s money you’re looking to save, why don’t you go to one of those police auctions.” 

     “That’s the worst you can do. Either you are getting a police department cast off or you’re getting a ride that’s been involved in a crime, and you don’t want to deal with either. Those rides from the police department have been driven rough and are about worn out. They’ve been put through stress beyond the manufacturer’s recommendation and have a ton of hard miles on them. Though they’re well maintained, the life they have left in them isn’t much. 

     “And with the other offerings, it’s just a bad deal. There’s too many headaches coming from an ex-con’s ride. They’ve been used and abused worse than the police, and you lose all your money trying to keep it running right.” 

     “Hadn’t thought of it that way.” 

     “You’re young.” Grandpa smiled. “You still have a lot to learn. Maybe if you one day get your license and are able to get a ride you’ll remember what I said.” 

     “I’m sure mom would love that,” I said sarcastically. “She might like all the new ‘chines, but the idea of me in a ride drives her crazy.” 

     “That’s because she never wanted one for herself. When she was in college, she got involved in some kind of back to Earth cult: eating unmaterialized food, wearing non-synthetic fabric clothing, and no rides. I think the no-ride was because none of that lot were qualified to operate one yet, but the idea stuck with your mom.” 

     “Did she give up tech, too, at the time?” 

     “Let’s not be foolish. It’s still your mother.” 

     I laughed. “I guess I’ll decide for myself when the time comes.” 

     “You got a while, baby face.” 

     “Okay, old man,” I joked back. 

     Once again the car grew quiet as I looked at the scenery passing my side. It was the life of a time long ago, no longer functioning or valid. We passed empty strip malls and movie theaters and gas stations by the dozen. Finding gas was a chore these days, but I was sure Grandpa had enough for the trip. I don’t know what life was like when Grandpa was my age, but seeing the ghosts of worn out businesses gave me a clue. 

     “Where is this auction anyway?” I decided to break the silence. 

     “We still got a bit more to go.” 

     “It’s not “Smith, Rose, and Cline is it?” 

     “Heavens no. Those are high end rides that I’ll never be able to afford. It doesn’t make sense to go into poverty over a new ride. I would have to take out three mortgages just for some of their lower end stuff. The place we’re going to is a reputable, middle of the road type place. It has a lot of positive feedback and a steady stream of repeat customers, so they must be good.” 

     “You could simply go to a used ride place and save the hassle.” 

     “And pay the overhead? You really do have a lot to learn. Where do you think those places get those rides? It’s places like where we’re going, only they mark it up three times what they spent for it. I want to get every dollar’s worth out of my purchase.” 

     I nodded and understood. Grandpa was right, I did have a lot to learn, and if I was able to get a ride, I should pay attention to all he was saying. A ride wasn’t necessary to function in life, but it sure made things easier and more interesting. 

     “Do you even know what you’re looking for?” I said as the road meandered by. 

     Grandpa pursed his lips. “Not exactly. It’s like the old saying goes, I’ll know what I want once I see it.” 

     I sunk in my seat; we could waste hours going ride to ride and not be any closer to a decision than we are now. I had to get the old man to at least narrow his selection down so we could at least look in the right area. These auction houses always housed rides by type, and there was no reason to hang around the scooters when you were looking for a bus. “You going to go with another sedan?”

     “I’ve had this one for quite a while,” Grandpa Tom said thoughtfully. 

     “Wouldn’t be bad sticking with what you know.” 

     Grandpa nodded. “That is true, but I think I’m ready for something different. Things get old after a while and aren’t as enjoyable and comfortable as they once were. If I got another sedan, I would just be in a newer version of an old ride. Where’s the fun in that?” 

     The fact that he wasn’t looking for a new sedan came as a surprised. Mom thought he might upgrade to a luxury model, but we figured that was the extent to which the old soul would be willing to venture outside his comfort zone. He certainly seemed at ease in a sedan, and it was hard to picture him in anything else. 

     Mom wouldn’t be happy about it; she didn’t handle change well, even when it didn’t remotely affect her. I should call her once we got to the auction house and Grandpa signed himself in and showed his documents, but that would only lead to a long argument that mom would lose and cause frustration for all of us. I’ll simply tell her that the old man sprung it on me at the last second, and there was nothing I could do once the deed was done. “So the sedan days are over?” 

     “I think it’s about time.” 

     “Going for one of those big RVs?” I asked, hopeful that there might be some compromising to be made.

     “Not exactly. I was thinking of something sporty. I want something sleek with curves, something that gets the heart pounding and the blood pumping through your veins.”

     “You’re not thinking about getting one of those high-end Italian rides are you?” 

     Grandpa laughed heartedly. 

     “Did I say something funny?” 

     “Can you ever imagine someone like me in one of those high-end Italian numbers? I don’t have the personality for it, nor the wallet. I might have done well for myself, but those rides are high maintenance and that takes all the fun out of life. You’ve got to work the engine routinely, got to keep it polished and waxed all the time, and then there are the people. Who wants to go out and have people fawning over your ride all the time? Mark my words, those high end rides are nice to look at, but they make a slave of their owner.” 

     “I hadn’t thought of it like that,” I said. 

     “That’s because you’re inexperienced and naive. The allure will always be there, if it wasn’t they wouldn’t sell them. You have to keep your head about you and do your homework. Know what you’re getting into, because it’s not like the old days when you can get in and out of a ride quickly.” 

     “You could always keep two rides – one for the weekday and one for the weekend.” 

     Grandpa sucked his bottom lip as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. “I suppose you could. There’s no law against it, and I’m sure some of the ultra-rich might enjoy such a thing.” 

     “Mom was wondering if that’s what you’re going to do.” 

     “She should know me better than that.” 

     “She said you might be practical for a change.” 

     “Practical,” Grandpa echoed. I didn’t know if he was making a statement or asking a question. 

     “She figured you knew you wouldn’t get much for your current ride and might keep it around for the sake of convenience.” 

     “Her convenience or mine?” 

     I shrugged. 

     “I might not get a lot for this old rust bucket, but I’ll get something. I don’t have space at my house for two rides and I don’t have the desire to look after both. I know this old boy isn’t fancy, shiny, or new, but there are those out there that enjoy a restoration project and find a certain elegance in antiques. I’ll take whatever I can get for it and will be happy in my new ride without being tempted to return to something that’s just comfortable.” 

     I sunk in my seat. “She asked me to bring it up.” 

     “I know. That outburst was for her, not for you.” 

     “So, a new, sporty ride.” 

     “Something light, something sleek, something sexy,” Grandpa said with a wry smile. 

     I shivered. Associating the word sexy with grandpa sent chills down my spine. 

     “But nothing new.” 

     “No, but we’ll keep an eye out for something one-owner. When you get these rides that have changed hands too often, that’s a sign that there’s either a problem or they’ve been used and abused.” 

     I saw a sign pointing to an auction. “Is that the place?” 

     Grandpa nodded. “That’s the one.” He navigated the huge car into the parking lot and drove towards where trade-ins were evaluated.

     I could sense Grandpa’s tentativeness. “You still have a chance to back out,” I said as Grandpa parked. 

     “I know. But I think the time is right for me and this old ride to part ways. It’s time for a new chapter in life, and that’s the way things work. Why don’t you meet me by the concession stand, and I’ll see what I can get for this thing and register. Who knows, maybe I won’t see anything I like, and I’ll head back exactly how I came.” 

     “Mom would be ecstatic.” 

     Grandpa rolled his eyes. “I’m sure she would be. Now, get out,” Grandpa feigned being mad. 

     I laughed as I pushed hard on the door and finally got it to open. 

     The auction was busy; people were going to and fro taking a look at all the rides available. This wasn’t some rinky-dink mom and pop place; it was highly organized and had a bigger selection than I would have imagined. There were rides of all shapes and sizes, with plenty of colors and options to choose from. Didn’t want white? Then get black or yellow or red. Didn’t want a sedan or something sporty, then get an RV or an all-terrain or a utility or a hybrid, they had it all. 

     I glanced at some of the rides as I made my way towards the concession stand. Nothing really struck my fancy, but I was a long way from getting a ride of my own, and most of my dreams involved getting something brand-spanking new that came unblemished from the dealer. I know getting a ride new from a dealership didn’t follow Grandpa Tom’s line of logic; he always taught me to think for myself. I wouldn’t discount what he told me completely, but when the time comes, I’ve got to do what I’m most comfortable with. 

     There was little time to think about my future as my link to the past shuffled his feet as he made his way down the main concourse. He didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry, walking even slower than usual as he gave courtesy glances at the booths he passed. I could tell by the sour look on his face that he wasn’t pleased with the selection that he saw. 

     I know it was asking the obvious, but I felt compelled to say something as Grandpa came up to me. “See anything you like?” 

     Grandpa groaned. “A bunch of old clunkers trying to be passed off as exotics. They might have been something in their day, but they are well past the point of being useful. Some people like to pass off their junk on unexpecting newbs who don’t know any better.”

     “People do that?” 

     “We aren’t as advanced and noble as a race as we would like to convince ourselves of. There are people out there that are only worried about how many credits are on their chip.” 

     “Kind of sad that people pass off junk.” 

     “Who knows, maybe it’ll be a nice project for someone. There used to be an old saying ‘one man’s junk is another man’s treasure.’ However, that junk is not this man’s treasure.” Grandpa laughed. “Are you hungry? Do you want a snack or a drink? I can drop a few credits; we’re going to be here a while.” 

     “I’m good. Are we going to walk around and see what we see or is there a plan?” 

     “I have no desire to see everything, do you?” 

     “Not really.” 

     “Anything in particular you want to see?” 

     I shrugged. “Not really. I’m here for you and I’m curious as to what you will choose.” 

     “In that case, let’s go to concourse C; that’s where the sport rides are.” 

     I smiled. “Sounds like a plan.” 

     Grandpa and I took off down the concourse. Ride after ride were lined up, strategically placed so you could walk around and take a look. Though each ride was different, they were all remarkably similar. Some had greater curves and the headlights were different size and shapes, but you noticed the trends. Nothing really popped out at us for the first half hour as the auction hawks tried to make a sale before bidding began. 

     We went to the next booth and I knew immediately that Grandpa was enamored. It was a decent looking ride, but there was nothing rare or exotic about it. Just your run of the mill sport model. It was tan. Tan wouldn’t be my first choice, but I could see the appeal. It didn’t matter what I thought about the color anyway; it was Grandpa’s and he was the one who had to live with it. We walked around the body. It was long and lean with a little trunk and a little front that was distinguishable but not gaudy. 

     The auction hawk swooped in. He knew he had prey within reach of his talons. “See something you like.” 

     My Grandpa nodded non-committedly. “Possibly,” he played it cool. 

     “For you or for the young one?” 

     I held up my hands in surrender. I heard these hawks were relentless if they thought they could squeeze a credit out of you, and I didn’t need that kind of pressure. “I’m not licensed.” 

     The auction hawk looked me over. “It’s a shame. Look me up if you’re ever ready.” Like a magician he made a business hologram appear out of nowhere and transferred it over to my hand. Out of politeness I saved it to my files. 

     “If he’s ever ready.” Grandpa gave me a wink. 

     “So this is for you.” 

     Grandpa continued to dance around with the hawk. “As I said, it’s a possibility. It’s got to make sense, if you know what I mean.” 

     “Certainly. First let me introduce myself, I’m Freddie Skye of Skye’s Ride Emporium.” 

     “So, a dealer?” Grandpa frowned. 

     “Don’t let the title fool you. I’m not one of these high volume guys looking to make a quick flip and pocket your credits. I move three or four units a month and each one is carefully inspected to make sure it’s of the highest quality. People are tired of getting in rides only to find there is a problem with the motor or the wiring or the processing unit, that’s why all my rides are completely worked over, and I have the readouts ready for you to look over.” 

     My grandpa tried hard not to look impressed, but I could tell he was. “Okay, Freddie,” Grandpa held out his hand. “I’m Tom.” 

     “Glad to know you Tom.” Freddie shook grandpa’s hand vigorously. “Tell me, are you looking for something to be a daily rider or are you looking for something to putt around in on the weekends. This model here is versatile and could be used either way.” 

     “It’ll be my fulltime driver.” 

     Freddie smiled big. “Economical, I can appreciate that. Multiple rides aren’t for everyone and I can see the allure for something simple. I’m a two-ride guy myself.” 

     “One is plenty enough for me.” 

     “Say no more. Well this girl certainly has a lot going on for her. Low mileage, one owner, low fuel consumption, everything you need in a daily ride.” 

     “What year model?” 

     “2027, and that’s documented.” 

     “Fifteen years old.” 

     “And built to last at least fifty more.” 

     Grandpa raised an eyebrow. 

     “I can see you’re a person who appreciates longevity. This model is built to last.” 

     “Where was she built?” 

     “This is a Brazilian model.” 

     Grandpa groaned. 

     “Not to worry,” Freddie responded quickly. “This isn’t some base unit and she has the upgraded English pack. You won’t even have to learn the metric system.” 

     “How about accidents, major repairs?” 

     “None at all. Been serviced every six months since she came online, just like she was supposed to.” 

     “I’m sure that’s documented too,” Grandpa said as he scrutinized the new ride. I didn’t know what he was looking for, but something told me neither did he.” 

     “We can talk about her all day long, but you aren’t going to appreciate her if you don’t get behind the controls.” 

     “That’s quite alright. I think I’ve seen enough. What’s the asking price?” 

     “Eighteen thousand credits.”

     “Kind of high?” 

     “She’s been impeccably maintained.” 

     “Fifteen thousand,” Grandpa countered. 

     “Sixteen,” Freddie shot out the number quickly. “And you also get the accessories. If she goes to auction, you know she’ll fetch more. How about it?” 

     Grandpa nodded. He seemed pleased. “I think I can do that.” 

     “Deal. Let’s go to the transfer station and put you in your new ride. You won’t be disappointed.” 

     Grandpa shuffled his feet toward the transfer station and Freddie navigated the new ride towards the transfer station. I had never seen a transfer before, and I was intrigued at how it was done.

o.O.o

     After the paperwork was completed and the credits were transferred, Grandpa stood face to face with his new ride in a darkened booth. I felt saddened that the old ride would soon be gone and some trepidation at getting to know a new ride. I would have to learn how to interact with the new ride, it was going to be quite different than the sedan. 

     Grandpa and the sport ride stood eye to eye. There was a blinding bright flash and in an instant it was done. Grandpa’s eyes glazed over and the old sedan stood at ease with a far-away look in his eyes. The fifteen year old girl walked out of the booth and headed straight towards me. 

     “Grandpa?” I hesitated. 

     “Yes, Scott,” Grandpa said. “But I think you better start using my new name before people think you’ve gone space age. I’m Allie now.” 

     “Allie,” I said so I wouldn’t forget.

     “See, that wasn’t too hard.” 

     “No, but it’s going to take me some time getting used to your new ride.” 

     “Me too,” Grandpa said as he adjusted his breast in his bra and pulled at the hem of his skirt. “Speaking of rides, you probably should drive us home, it isn’t safe to drive right after a transfer.” 

     I took Grandpa’s, I mean Allie’s keys, and we made our way to the parking lot. At least grandpa’s new ride wasn’t sluggish and once in the natural light I could really appreciate how good she looked.

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