The car shuddered, and the tires screamed as it spun out of control! A telephone pole flashed by the window just before everything went black. When Roger came back to his senses, it was in a ditch by the side of the road.
"Good Lord, am I dead? I must be, I don't hurt anywhere." He thought and opened one eye.
"I'm still in the car and draped over the steering wheel."
He opened both eyes and slowly settled back in the seat and checked to see if his legs and arms still worked. They did. He looked around, then climbed out.
"Everything looks OK, I'm off the road, but not stuck."
"Well, I can't sit here all day." He climbed back into the car and turned the key and a welcome roar came from the exhaust.
"This sure is strange", he pulled back on the road, I better call my doctor and make an appointment to find out why I passed out. I could have hit something".
He'd gone only a short distance before it became evident he was lost, This didn't even look like the right road. It couldn't be, his road was paved, this one was dirt.
There's nothing but an empty field where his house and drive should be.
"Do you suppose I managed to drive for "God only knows" how many miles before I finally wound up in that ditch?" He sat a long time looking at the field. "I don't know, is somebody playing a trick on me?" He pulled the car back onto the road and idled slowly along as he looked at the strange scenery. Where before there had been houses he saw nothing but fields and woods. With a sigh, he stopped at the edge of the road.
"Now what?" he said out loud. The sound of his voice almost startled him.
He sat looking at the dash, It seemed like only moments ago he had been comfortable and safe in his office.....
"Donna, I do want to see the kids this weekend. So just when "will" they be home? I'll call next week then, yes, good-bye Donna"
Roger slammed the phone down, "Good Grief! what has become of my life? Three months ago my divorce was final, and here I am fighting to see my own kids."
A knock sounded at the door.
"Its open!" Roger growled.
The door opened as a balding, rosy cheeked, man pushed on it.
Gary MacDonald, "Mac" to his friends, and Roger had known each other for many years. They started into the electrical business from scratch and it was a big success. They both became prosperous if not wealthy men.
Mac was a sharp minded businessman, and Roger knew electrical work and had a knack for getting the best out of people. Together they made an unbeatable team.
"Rog, old boy, you look like you've been talking to your wife again." Mac laughed.
"Ex wife!" Roger corrected.
"Ha ha, OK, ex then. I'm sorry to disturb you when you're having so much fun, but I need your John Hancock on these contracts."
"Sure Mac, got to take care of the business. I'll sign and leave them on the desk before I leave."
"Sure thing Roger, see you Monday then." Mac put the papers in front of Roger, then with a wave made his way out the door.
Rogers mind wandered as he signed each paper. Roger William Dawson, age 36. Tall, blond and thin. In the prime of life, with two beautiful children, Jack, who just turned 9 years old and Elizabeth, who is 7.
An ex-machine shop supervisor who went back to school and was first in a class of 100 to receive their BS. in Mechanical Engineering. Also acquired a BS. in Electronic Technology. He was considered a genius by some of his peers.
"Ha" He laughed out loud, " and what has all that gained me?"
He placed the last paper on the corner of his desk and with a sigh pushed to his feet and made his way to the door just as he had for the last three years. He grabbed his jacket from a hook on the wall and went out.
"Sybil, I'm leaving early, the papers Mac wants are on my desk."
"OK Mr. Dawson, I'll tell him." Sybil gave him a knowing smile.
"Have a nice weekend." She called sweetly as the door closed after him.
Sometimes divorces are easy and civil, but, usually they aren't. Rogers wasn't. It had gotten down and dirty. The court let him keep his car. Of course, that was all he got to keep. But then, it wasn't just a car. It was a mint 1927 roadster. The engine was a 327 cubic inch Chevy "V8" with a four barrel Carburator. The running gear was all beefed up.
Roger spent over three years putting it together from a wreck he found in a farmer's barn.
Donna, his ex, got the house, the other car and naturally, the kids. Being close to his son and daughter was what he missed the most.
"I'm tired", he thought as the car moved onto the main road. "A nice hot shower, and maybe I'll watch the news and fall asleep in my big old easy chair.
Now, here he was, lost and confused 10 minutes from his office. At least, he thought he was 10 minutes from the office.
"Maybe I should try and go back to the office."
He made a left at the main road. There were no houses on the road, and he soon found out why. The road made a turn and ended at a creek!
"What the hell is going on here?", he snarled.
Again the car did a U turn and back he went. After what seemed like 5 miles but actually was just 2, he started seeing buildings alongside the road. A sign said "Donald's
Diner, Good Home Cooked Food."
"I sure could use a cup of coffee." Roger pulled in. "Funny, I don't remember a diner being here, but, then, I don't remember any of this!"
There was a single car parked in front. It looked like an old model "T". He marveled at what good shape it was in under all the dust.
The diner looked more like an old railroad car than a diner. He took a seat at the short bar. There was only one other customer back in one of the booths. She was watching him with great interest.
"Howdy, what'll ya have?", came a voice from behind a newspaper in the general direction of the cash register.
"A cup of black coffee would be nice." Roger answered.
The newspaper dropped to reveal a bald head and wire rimmed spectacles, "That all?"
"For now." Roger said as he tried not to stare.
"My Gosh, he looks like Winston Churchill!"
"Might be a bit strong, ain't sold but two cups in the last four hours."
"That's OK, I need something strong."
"OK, bub, I warned ya." Winston rose with a great effort and drew a cup of very black liquid from a pot.
Roger tasted it, made a face and took another sip. It was strong alright! He reached for the cream pitcher.
He sensed someone standing alongside of him and looked up. It was the lady from the booth. She was tall and slim, but not awkwardly so. A pile of blond hair was knotted up and had a red scarf tied around it. A pair of sky blue eyes peered out from under short bangs. She was kind of pretty and was smiling at him.
"Are you Roger Dawson?" she asked softly. Her voice matched her looks, strong, but still very feminine.
"Yes, but how did you........?"
"Come sit with me." She walked over to the booth she had been sitting in.
Roger grabbed his coffee, followed her and slid in opposite.
"I need to see some proof."
"How do you know my name? I don't know you."
"Shhhh, not so loud!" she cautioned "My name is Michelle Routhe, show me some proof of who you are and I'll explain everything."
Roger fished his drivers license from his wallet. Michelle looked at it and smiled as she handed it back.
"You can call me Mickey, do you know where you are?"
"No, Mickey, as a matter of fact, I don't!"
"Wait here," she walked over to a table, picked up a section of a newspaper and handed it to him. "Look at the date."
He looked. Then he blinked and looked again in disbelief.
"May 17, 1920! This can't be right! It's 2016!"
"Please, Roger, not so loud! Yes, it is right, But I can't tell you more here."
Mickey got up and paid for their coffee, then she motioned for Roger to follow her as she walked out the door. He took a big last swig of coffee, made a face and followed her out the door.
She had already opened his car door.
"Where are we going?" he asked as they settled into the car.
"To the time machine." She replied.
Roger laughed, "Oh sure!"
Mickey didn't laugh, "Go down this road to the right."
"Is it far? I'm kind of low on gas." Roger asked.
"It's not very far, but if you need gas, you can get some just up the road a little ways."
He started the car and pulled out on the road to the right. They rode only about a half a mile and he saw the sign.
"Anderson Bros. Garage, gas, 10 cents a gallon."
"Some change from two-nineteen." He laughed as he stopped at the gas pump and shut off the car.
He waited. No one came out. "Must be self-service", he opened the car door just as a loud crash came from inside the garage.
"Well, some ones here." Roger slammed the car door and walked into the garage. Considering the year, what Roger saw was a pretty complete machine shop. There was an old lathe, a drill press and.....
"Hey, somebody dere?"
"Yes, where are you? Are you all right?"
"Yep, hey, see dat pipe astickin outten da back o dis car?", The voice was coming from under a car parked in the middle of the floor. A piece of tailpipe, obviously the source of the noise, lay on the floor. It had slipped out of a clamp holding it onto the car.
"I see it."
"Reckon yo all canna slide it back inna dat clamp fer me?"
"Sure can." Roger lifted the pipe and slid the clamp over the end. The sound of wrenches being used resounded from under the car. Soon, came the sound of a wrench being dropped into a box, and two feet emerged, followed by legs and finally a man. He was short, in fact the shortest person Roger had ever seen in his life.
"Tanks fer da help, you vant gas?"
"yes."
The Anderson brother stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Roger's car.
"What kinna car be dat? Man! Dat one fine car!"
"What do people call you?" Roger asked as the man pumped gas.
"My given name be Clarence, but, most calla me Big Andy."
"Dat be von Dolla und tirty cents." Andy said. "Kin I see that motor of yours?"
"Sure," Roger raised the hood, and started the engine.
Andy listened and poked and prodded a couple things.
"Wowee! How you get a car like dat around here?"
Roger laughed as he closed the hood.
"It is a little ahead of it's time." Roger said as he paid Big Andy.