Post by Pistachio Newt on Apr 18, 2009 18:25:10 GMT
It was 8:45 and Trevor was driving to work, as he usually was at that time of the morning. He was on the inside lane on the dual carriage way, queuing, listening to the radio and being bored. He fiddled with his packet of mints, when his attention was distracted by a big lorry going the other way. Trevor dropped the mints on the floor. He swore, then reached out to pick them up - the car was stationary in the heavy morning traffic, so it wasn't an issue.
As he was bending forwards, his hand caught on something behind the steering wheel. It was a strange little thing, a lever of some sort. It had an arm about six or seven inches long, with a thicker black blob at the end, close to the rim of the steering wheel. It had some white cryptic symbols on it. Trevor had this idea, just something he had overheard on a coffee break at work, that it might be what they call 'the Indicator'.
Suddenly the boredom of commuting was gone! Excitement made the soles of his feet tingle. He forgot all about the mints. The Indicator loomed from behind the steering wheel, now shiny and glistening in its sleek, black slimline glory. Trevor wondered how he had never noticed it in the three years he had owned the car. He contemplated what would happen if he tried to use it. What would you do to set it off, let it loose doing what it is supposed to do. Trevor presumed its design intent was to indicate. Fairly obvious, really, he pondered. He had no idea what it would indicate, though. His colleagues had mentioned something about lights. Perhaps it would indicate to him whether the lights were on or not?
The traffic moved again. Someone hooted behind Trevor. In his excitement he hadn't noticed the lights were green again. He fumbled around the controls and got going, beads of sweat on his forehead, heart thumping. The Indicator. What a fine name for a piece of kit! It sounded almost sinister, like a name for a Mafia enforcer or something. Just think that even a Joe Bloggs like him could have his very own Indicator! His car wasn't even very expensive, just a normal small hatchback, a few years old. The Indicator. Fancy that!
Trevor was very distracted at work that day and couldn't get much done. He muttered the odd word to colleagues, when he was asked something. He didn't notice the odd looks he got from people wondering what was going on. He couldn't wait for the day to end and get to drive again, even contemplating leaving early under some excuse. At 4:30 he was seen rushing out of the door, practically running to the car park.
His hands shook, as he was trying to get the keys into the ignition. The engine came to life. The Indicator glistened. During the day Trevor had hardly been able to think about anything else but the Indicator. His mind was made up. He was going to use it! Trevor's car joined the late afternoon queue as he began his slow journey home. This time, there was nothing tedious about it, however. He was just going to go for it. At the very first opportunity, when he had caught his breath and managed to calm his nerves a little bit, he was going to do it. Switch on the Indicator. He had done some research on the Internet at lunchtime, and apparently the thing to do was to 'press it'. So that was what was in store for him. He'd press it. The instructions weren't very clear about which direction it needed to be pressed to, but presumably some other car makes had Indicators, too. They might not all work the same, so Trevor understood the vagueness of the instructions. He wasn't too worried, thinking he could try a couple of different directions, if at first he wouldn't succeed. He just hoped he'd somehow find out if he did succeed!
A set of traffic lights was approaching, forcing the traffic to stop on red light. Trevor thought his heart would explode, but plucked up all of his courage and slowly took his left hand off the steering wheel, staring intesely at the Indicator. He moved his hand to the left, right up to the side window. SLAM! He had done it! He had pressed - no, whacked - the Indicator! There were hoots from behind his car. He had missed the green light, again. He tried to get going but stalled. More hoots. Head sticking out of the car behind. Blushes. Sweat. More heart thumping. But more importantly, no sign whatsoever that the Indicator had... well... indicated. No indication of any sort of indication that Trevor could see, hear, feel or smell. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased about that or relieved. After all, it is just possible that he could have got into trouble with the Law for reckess driving. Perhaps you weren't allowed to use the Indicator on public roads?
Seeds of doubt flooded Trevor's mind. There were too many unknowns here. The best course of action was to leave it for today. It was all getting a bit much for one day. Drive home, have a cup of tea, nice hot bath, read the paper. Try to calm down. Plenty of time to deal with this later. Doesn't even have to be this week. Trevor was trying to talk his nerves down while the rest of the commute was uneventful, short of the packet of mints reappearing under the clutch pedal. It reminded of itself by way of a crunchy gearshift, as he was pulling in to his drive.
The next day he wasn't yet ready. He did stare longingly at the Indicator on the way in to work, as well as on the way back. It would have to wait until Friday. He would do it on the way home. That way, if he got arrested, at least there was a chance he would be released by Monday and work wouldn't be affected. Who knows what the penalty for Wreckless Use of the Indicator on a Public Road would be, but Trevor thought it couldn't be that severe. After all, he could say he did it by mistake. His hand had slipped. But wait! What if the police look into the history of his Internet use at work? He had looked up details about this devilish implement on there! Trevor swore. How could he have been such an utter idiot? Why did he have to go and leave evidence of his act? He had now left a trail, which clearly showed that this was a premeditated act. Damn it!
'Are you a man or a mouse', Trevor eventually psyched himself up. It may not even be illegal. He would just have to do it regardless. Friday afternoon. Decided.
Friday afternoon. Hot day. Standing traffic. More sweat than Trevor ever thought he could produce. On way home. Scared. Hands trembling. Red lights at the same place as on Monday. Same place, same act of... whatever it was. Indicating, was Trevor's guess. Left hand off the steering wheel. Attempt at calming down. Left hand up, between the steering wheel and the side window. Slow movement towards the Indicator. God, how it looked shiny and purposeful! Touchdown. Decisive pressing action in downward direction.
It moved! The Indicator had gone down about three inches and stayed there! To be precise, it was the left end close to the steering wheel rim that had gone down three inches, while the other end had remained more or less where it had started off at. Trevor hadn't noticed it before, but now peering at it from a different angle, the right end seemed to have some clever mechanism whereby it was hinged into the steering column.
A ticking noise! A flashing light on the dash board! Had he broken something? Trevor was extremely worried. Life seemed to have moved into slow motion, as he had heard sometimes happens in a crisis. The traffic was still standing still, lights red. Now then, ticking and flashing all at the same time. Definitely something to do with the Indicator. The ticking brought to his mind a time bomb, but that would just be too ridiculous. No car manufacturer in their right minds would install one of those in a car. And the Indicator was certainly installed at the factory, the workmanship was so fine. Is it a warning for something? Is the engine about to cease? Should he contact the garage? He decided he would risk being ridiculed, if he did that. It might be perfectly normal that the Indicator sets off some ticking and flashing lights. He would just try and make it stop. Yes. Try and make it stop, that'll be it. Trevor was rather proud about his cool and calm thinking in the face of such a hefty incident.
The traffic moved. Trevor moved, too. No hooting. Further sense of proudness. A crisis well handled. It was likely no one had even noticed what had gone on within this little car, containing an Indicator. And he had managed to all that during just the one red light. The only thing left was to make that infernal ticking stop. Try something at the next set of lights, maybe?
Suddenly it dawned on him that he could try to move the Indicator back to its original position. He tried this at the next traffic lights - and it worked. Success again. It's becoming a habit. Trevor loosened his tie and opened a button with an immense sense of pleasure. He felt he could tackle anything, the world was his oyster!
Over the next fortnight Trevor did the 'Indicator down, Indicator up' trick twice every day. Once on the way to work, once coming home. It worked every time. Ticking on, ticking off. He started to think that there was nothing wrong with the car and it was meant to tick and flash. One morning, as he was doing his morning Indicator trick, he caught a reflection of his car in a shop window and noticed something eerie. There were lights flashing on the outside of his car, too!
Trevor jumped out of the car in the middle of the standing traffic, pulled his hair and mumbled incomprehensive words, sick with worry. He ran around his car, looking at the flashing lights and tried to shout for help from fellow motorists, but the words wouldn't come out from his mouth. People looked at him. Then they tried to look away, as if nothing was happening. Trevor suddenly realised that there was a lot of hooting and regained some kind of control. He thought that he could perhaps make this flashing stop by finishing his procedure with an 'Indicator off'. It was an outside chance, but worth a shot. He approached the car carefully, slipping in through the open door. Indicator off. Trevor out. Look at corners of car. They'd stopped flashing. Thank goodness.
He had to call in sick. His nerves wouldn't take much more of this. He did go to work the following day, but didn't do anything with the Indicator. On the way home, he noticed there was another car that had flashing corners. Trevor kept his eye on the car and the driver, just in case they needed help. He could go and help the driver, if things got out of hand. After all, he had at least some experience of this and had managed to quench an impending disaster once. That's got to be worth something. However, the car stopped flashing on its own and there was no need for any heroism. Just as well.
Over the following days Trevor saw a number of cars flashing and wondered whether it was some kind of a new government trial scheme for some purpose or another. He decided he would join in, just for fun. The other flashing cars didn't have anything else in them that stood out. No stickers or warning signs, no notes on dashboard. Trevor worked out that the odds were he would get away with it. They'd think he is part of the scheme and authorised to use the Indicator. He eventually found that he can flash two corners on whichever side of the car he wanted. The Indicator was cleverer than it had first had appeared. You could lift it up as well as press it down. In the middle position all flashing was off. Sometimes there seemed to be a fault with it, as the flashing and ticking stopped on their own and the lever returned to the middle position. When this first happened, Trevor was startled but then he got used to it. It didn't really bother him, other than it annoyed him that his attempts at indicating all the way from home to work had all failed. He didn't bother taking the car to the garage to be mended.
Trevor and the handful of other cars in town continued to indicate over the following weeks. Trevor himself was getting quite cocky, flashing the left side, then the right side, left again and so on. Sometimes he would try to take people by surprise by starting his indication just as a car was approaching. This was usually met with blatant ignoring - some people just don't pay enough attention to what is around them!
- Next week: Trevor and the Inside Lane of the Motorway.
As he was bending forwards, his hand caught on something behind the steering wheel. It was a strange little thing, a lever of some sort. It had an arm about six or seven inches long, with a thicker black blob at the end, close to the rim of the steering wheel. It had some white cryptic symbols on it. Trevor had this idea, just something he had overheard on a coffee break at work, that it might be what they call 'the Indicator'.
Suddenly the boredom of commuting was gone! Excitement made the soles of his feet tingle. He forgot all about the mints. The Indicator loomed from behind the steering wheel, now shiny and glistening in its sleek, black slimline glory. Trevor wondered how he had never noticed it in the three years he had owned the car. He contemplated what would happen if he tried to use it. What would you do to set it off, let it loose doing what it is supposed to do. Trevor presumed its design intent was to indicate. Fairly obvious, really, he pondered. He had no idea what it would indicate, though. His colleagues had mentioned something about lights. Perhaps it would indicate to him whether the lights were on or not?
The traffic moved again. Someone hooted behind Trevor. In his excitement he hadn't noticed the lights were green again. He fumbled around the controls and got going, beads of sweat on his forehead, heart thumping. The Indicator. What a fine name for a piece of kit! It sounded almost sinister, like a name for a Mafia enforcer or something. Just think that even a Joe Bloggs like him could have his very own Indicator! His car wasn't even very expensive, just a normal small hatchback, a few years old. The Indicator. Fancy that!
Trevor was very distracted at work that day and couldn't get much done. He muttered the odd word to colleagues, when he was asked something. He didn't notice the odd looks he got from people wondering what was going on. He couldn't wait for the day to end and get to drive again, even contemplating leaving early under some excuse. At 4:30 he was seen rushing out of the door, practically running to the car park.
His hands shook, as he was trying to get the keys into the ignition. The engine came to life. The Indicator glistened. During the day Trevor had hardly been able to think about anything else but the Indicator. His mind was made up. He was going to use it! Trevor's car joined the late afternoon queue as he began his slow journey home. This time, there was nothing tedious about it, however. He was just going to go for it. At the very first opportunity, when he had caught his breath and managed to calm his nerves a little bit, he was going to do it. Switch on the Indicator. He had done some research on the Internet at lunchtime, and apparently the thing to do was to 'press it'. So that was what was in store for him. He'd press it. The instructions weren't very clear about which direction it needed to be pressed to, but presumably some other car makes had Indicators, too. They might not all work the same, so Trevor understood the vagueness of the instructions. He wasn't too worried, thinking he could try a couple of different directions, if at first he wouldn't succeed. He just hoped he'd somehow find out if he did succeed!
A set of traffic lights was approaching, forcing the traffic to stop on red light. Trevor thought his heart would explode, but plucked up all of his courage and slowly took his left hand off the steering wheel, staring intesely at the Indicator. He moved his hand to the left, right up to the side window. SLAM! He had done it! He had pressed - no, whacked - the Indicator! There were hoots from behind his car. He had missed the green light, again. He tried to get going but stalled. More hoots. Head sticking out of the car behind. Blushes. Sweat. More heart thumping. But more importantly, no sign whatsoever that the Indicator had... well... indicated. No indication of any sort of indication that Trevor could see, hear, feel or smell. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased about that or relieved. After all, it is just possible that he could have got into trouble with the Law for reckess driving. Perhaps you weren't allowed to use the Indicator on public roads?
Seeds of doubt flooded Trevor's mind. There were too many unknowns here. The best course of action was to leave it for today. It was all getting a bit much for one day. Drive home, have a cup of tea, nice hot bath, read the paper. Try to calm down. Plenty of time to deal with this later. Doesn't even have to be this week. Trevor was trying to talk his nerves down while the rest of the commute was uneventful, short of the packet of mints reappearing under the clutch pedal. It reminded of itself by way of a crunchy gearshift, as he was pulling in to his drive.
The next day he wasn't yet ready. He did stare longingly at the Indicator on the way in to work, as well as on the way back. It would have to wait until Friday. He would do it on the way home. That way, if he got arrested, at least there was a chance he would be released by Monday and work wouldn't be affected. Who knows what the penalty for Wreckless Use of the Indicator on a Public Road would be, but Trevor thought it couldn't be that severe. After all, he could say he did it by mistake. His hand had slipped. But wait! What if the police look into the history of his Internet use at work? He had looked up details about this devilish implement on there! Trevor swore. How could he have been such an utter idiot? Why did he have to go and leave evidence of his act? He had now left a trail, which clearly showed that this was a premeditated act. Damn it!
'Are you a man or a mouse', Trevor eventually psyched himself up. It may not even be illegal. He would just have to do it regardless. Friday afternoon. Decided.
Friday afternoon. Hot day. Standing traffic. More sweat than Trevor ever thought he could produce. On way home. Scared. Hands trembling. Red lights at the same place as on Monday. Same place, same act of... whatever it was. Indicating, was Trevor's guess. Left hand off the steering wheel. Attempt at calming down. Left hand up, between the steering wheel and the side window. Slow movement towards the Indicator. God, how it looked shiny and purposeful! Touchdown. Decisive pressing action in downward direction.
It moved! The Indicator had gone down about three inches and stayed there! To be precise, it was the left end close to the steering wheel rim that had gone down three inches, while the other end had remained more or less where it had started off at. Trevor hadn't noticed it before, but now peering at it from a different angle, the right end seemed to have some clever mechanism whereby it was hinged into the steering column.
A ticking noise! A flashing light on the dash board! Had he broken something? Trevor was extremely worried. Life seemed to have moved into slow motion, as he had heard sometimes happens in a crisis. The traffic was still standing still, lights red. Now then, ticking and flashing all at the same time. Definitely something to do with the Indicator. The ticking brought to his mind a time bomb, but that would just be too ridiculous. No car manufacturer in their right minds would install one of those in a car. And the Indicator was certainly installed at the factory, the workmanship was so fine. Is it a warning for something? Is the engine about to cease? Should he contact the garage? He decided he would risk being ridiculed, if he did that. It might be perfectly normal that the Indicator sets off some ticking and flashing lights. He would just try and make it stop. Yes. Try and make it stop, that'll be it. Trevor was rather proud about his cool and calm thinking in the face of such a hefty incident.
The traffic moved. Trevor moved, too. No hooting. Further sense of proudness. A crisis well handled. It was likely no one had even noticed what had gone on within this little car, containing an Indicator. And he had managed to all that during just the one red light. The only thing left was to make that infernal ticking stop. Try something at the next set of lights, maybe?
Suddenly it dawned on him that he could try to move the Indicator back to its original position. He tried this at the next traffic lights - and it worked. Success again. It's becoming a habit. Trevor loosened his tie and opened a button with an immense sense of pleasure. He felt he could tackle anything, the world was his oyster!
Over the next fortnight Trevor did the 'Indicator down, Indicator up' trick twice every day. Once on the way to work, once coming home. It worked every time. Ticking on, ticking off. He started to think that there was nothing wrong with the car and it was meant to tick and flash. One morning, as he was doing his morning Indicator trick, he caught a reflection of his car in a shop window and noticed something eerie. There were lights flashing on the outside of his car, too!
Trevor jumped out of the car in the middle of the standing traffic, pulled his hair and mumbled incomprehensive words, sick with worry. He ran around his car, looking at the flashing lights and tried to shout for help from fellow motorists, but the words wouldn't come out from his mouth. People looked at him. Then they tried to look away, as if nothing was happening. Trevor suddenly realised that there was a lot of hooting and regained some kind of control. He thought that he could perhaps make this flashing stop by finishing his procedure with an 'Indicator off'. It was an outside chance, but worth a shot. He approached the car carefully, slipping in through the open door. Indicator off. Trevor out. Look at corners of car. They'd stopped flashing. Thank goodness.
He had to call in sick. His nerves wouldn't take much more of this. He did go to work the following day, but didn't do anything with the Indicator. On the way home, he noticed there was another car that had flashing corners. Trevor kept his eye on the car and the driver, just in case they needed help. He could go and help the driver, if things got out of hand. After all, he had at least some experience of this and had managed to quench an impending disaster once. That's got to be worth something. However, the car stopped flashing on its own and there was no need for any heroism. Just as well.
Over the following days Trevor saw a number of cars flashing and wondered whether it was some kind of a new government trial scheme for some purpose or another. He decided he would join in, just for fun. The other flashing cars didn't have anything else in them that stood out. No stickers or warning signs, no notes on dashboard. Trevor worked out that the odds were he would get away with it. They'd think he is part of the scheme and authorised to use the Indicator. He eventually found that he can flash two corners on whichever side of the car he wanted. The Indicator was cleverer than it had first had appeared. You could lift it up as well as press it down. In the middle position all flashing was off. Sometimes there seemed to be a fault with it, as the flashing and ticking stopped on their own and the lever returned to the middle position. When this first happened, Trevor was startled but then he got used to it. It didn't really bother him, other than it annoyed him that his attempts at indicating all the way from home to work had all failed. He didn't bother taking the car to the garage to be mended.
Trevor and the handful of other cars in town continued to indicate over the following weeks. Trevor himself was getting quite cocky, flashing the left side, then the right side, left again and so on. Sometimes he would try to take people by surprise by starting his indication just as a car was approaching. This was usually met with blatant ignoring - some people just don't pay enough attention to what is around them!
- Next week: Trevor and the Inside Lane of the Motorway.