Or Best Offer: Part III
Life is a highway.
As soon as Eric saw the GPS online, advertised for a reasonable price and within easy driving distance, it seemed like a sign. The universe was supporting his nostalgia. He figured that if it ended up being damaged or unusable he could still put it in the car as a gag. At the very least, it would serve to annoy Gina. That alone was worth the purchase price.
Technology made the entire process simple: Eric reached out to the seller through messaging. After a few exchanges they politely negotiated over the price. An agreement was reached and a time and date were duly set up. They would meet later that afternoon to close the sale. Eric pushed his chair away from the computer and spun around in a slow circle. He had the sensation of a task having been completed.
The rainy weather continued on his drive to the seller’s home, just on the other side of town. Eric drove with excessive care; he kept five miles under the speed limit in the rain, and never went above the speed limit under the best of circumstances. The old car rattled as he crossed the railway tracks, and the windshield wipers squeaked against the glass. It was raining just enough that Eric needed them, but every time they moved across the windshield they let out a horrible shriek.
By the time he got to the seller’s house, his head hurt from the noise. As he parked outside the modest single story home, he realized it had never once occurred to him to turn on the radio. The rain had become heavier, and he was soaking by the time he made it to the door.
The seller answered the door only after Eric had bruised his knuckles rapping on it. He’d pulled his jacket over his head, but rain still dripped down his back. A nondescript little old man whose name Eric couldn’t quite remember greeted him without emotion. He made Eric wait outside while he got the GPS, leaving the young man shivering on the doorstep.
The old man returned to him with the GPS, still in its original box. It even had the instruction manual and an extra adapter. Only the peeled, yellowing tape on the box indicated its age.
The seller offered to let Eric try out the device in his car to prove it worked, but Eric demurred. The torrential rain was already going to make driving home a chore, and the man’s refusal to invite him in was starting to grate on Eric’s nerves. He shoved the wrinkled bills into the seller’s cold, clammy hand and offered an insincere thanks. The old man shrugged and slammed the door in his face. Tucking his prize under his jacket, Eric raced back to his car in the rain.
Gina was not amused by the purchase. She gave him a shocked look across the table, her hazel eyes wide. Eric admired the elegant, clean lines of her makeup.
‘You seriously went out and bought one? An actual GPS. Where did you even find one?’ She stabbed at her boiled vegetables with more vigor than Eric thought necessary.
‘Facebook Marketplace,’ he said. ‘It came up when I was just browsing. Weird, right?’ Gina sighed, as if Eric’s very presence proved exhausting to her. Eric looked down at his own dinner. The chicken was a flat, dry white lump. Gina liked to pretend that she could cook, when the mood struck her.
‘It’s not weird,’ she said. ‘You know how all that technology listens in on us all the time these days. Your phone probably heard you going on about them the other day and figured you were in the market.’ She took a delicate bite of a limp asparagus. ‘Are you really going to use that thing? Seriously?’
‘I figured I could try it out at least,’ said Eric, looking down. ‘The nostalgia factor alone will be pretty entertaining.’ He sawed at a desiccated corner of his chicken and took a reluctant bite. Gina watched, pursing her pink lips.
‘I think it’s stupid, and a waste of money,’ she chided. ‘Just use your phone, like normal people. Or you could invest in a car that’s been built in the last decade.’
‘The car is fine,’ said Eric. ‘Don’t make this about my car again.’ Gina played with her bracelet.
‘All I’m saying is that the GPS matches your whole hipster aesthetic. It’s a vibe.’
‘I don’t have an aesthetic,’ said Eric. ‘And I’m not a hipster.’
‘Whatever,’ said Gina, focusing on her food. ‘If you want to blow your cash on crap, who am I to say anything? You never listen to me anyway.’ Eric winced as he chewed. The chicken was sucking all the moisture out of my mouth.
‘I think it will be fun,’ he said. ‘And if it ends up being broken or is too annoying to work, I’ll donate it somewhere.’
‘Like to a museum,’ Gina muttered. ‘Or a dumpster.’
The next morning was a Saturday, sunny and clear. Eric installed the GPS, following the instructions to the letter. Odd as he was, the old man hadn’t been lying: the device booted up without issue and Eric felt a sudden rush of longing for a simpler time that had never really existed.
He decided to take the GPS out for a spin; it was a lovely fall day, and Eric was feeling restless. After some internal debate, he decided not to bother asking Gina if she wanted to come along.
He set up the GPS to drive to the good Starbucks two towns over. Eric turned on his stereo and cranked up his favorite Korn CD. Grinning like a madman, Eric tore down the street. The GPS directed him in a crisp, clear tone that he could make out even over the pounding bass.
The novelty of using the GPS didn’t last long, and by the time he’d arrived at Starbucks, Eric was bored with his purchase. He’d still use it, if only to spite Gina, but in all honesty he much preferred his cellphone. Not only did his app offer a more accurate arrival time, it even warned him of accidents and errant police officers on the road. As much as he was loath to admit it, Eric had become spoiled by the newer technology.
Eric decided to hop on the highway and take the quick route home. Besides his own sugar-laden coffee he’d purchased Gina a decadent hot chocolate in a fit of guilt, and did not want it to get cold. Curious how the GPS would direct him as opposed to his phone, he entered his address and turned the music back up.
He was cruising down the highway, energized by caffeine and the pounding music, when an alert popped up on the GPS. Eric hadn’t read anything about such notifications in the instruction manual; he wondered if there had been new software updates since then. He tapped the alert, and the GPS spoke.
‘Accident up ahead; proceed with caution.’ Eric peered down the road. Traffic was moving along at a nice clip; there was no sign of an accident as far down the road as Eric could see. He smacked the GPS on the side, but it offered up no additional information. He tapped at the screen a few times; the notification vanished, but the device offered up no additional information. According to the map on screen, he was about to hit some serious traffic.
Annoyed, Eric was wondering if he could give the GPS to his friend Bill as a gag gift when he heard the crash. There was the shriek of metal on metal and the squeal of tires against the road. Up ahead he could see a plume of smoke rising. Cars skidded to a stop, some smashing into others in the process. A few spun out of the road entirely.
Eric managed to avoid getting sideswiped by a truck, spinning the wheel and wildly slamming on the brakes. Heart pounding in his chest, Eric slowed down but kept driving. He followed the sluggish flow of traffic, craning his neck out the window to see what had happened.
As he got closer to the thick black plume of smoke, Eric could see at least three cars tangled together in a mash of metal and rubber. It was hard to tell. Shattered glass covered the road. Another window burst as he drove by, belching forth flames and smoke. He slowed his car to barely a crawl, squinting at the heat from the flames. Ignoring the frantic honking behind him, Eric watched a young woman crawl out of the wreck. Her leg was missing, and she was screaming.
Eric kept driving. His eyes stayed exactly on the road. His hands shook as he reached over to turn off Korn. He gripped the wheel until his knuckles went white. By this time, traffic had screeched to a total halt. Police sped down the shoulders of the road, sirens screaming as they dodged stopped cars. An ambulance struggled to make its way through the chaos and congestion to the accident.
Eric tucked his shaking hands between his thighs and took a steadying breath. He glanced at the GPS. It sat innocently on the dashboard of his car. He tapped the screen with a quick, jerky movement. A message popped up on the screen.
‘In five miles, take the exit on the right.’
By the time Eric got home, Gina’s hot chocolate was cold. He threw it in the trash in the garage before walking inside.