Glitch

Peter raised a skeptical eyebrow as Robert tossed him the keys to the AMC Eagle.

"Dude," Peter kicked the front tire and shook his head, "I appreciate the ride and all but I don't think this rust bucket will make it across the states."

"Don't talk about Shelly that way," Robert grinned, caressing the hood of the car, "She may be old but she'll get you where you wanna go. Besides, I just had her engine checked and her tires filled. I also installed a new GPS system."

Pursing his lips, Peter reached out and jiggled the handle.

"Oh, yeah," Robert laughed, "She does have a few...eccentricities. The handle sticks a bit. You gotta pull it pretty hard to get it open. And now that I'm thinking on it, the turn signals don't click into place. You have to hold it until you're done turning. And don't lock the car or you'll never get it unlocked..."

"Is that all?" Peter smirked. With a firm tug, the driver's side door flew open. He pushed an old cheeseburger wrapper and a can of soda off the seat, tossed his suitcase in the back, and slid behind the wheel.

"Good luck!" Robert slammed the door shut.

"I don't believe in luck!" Peter laughed and revved the engine. Programming the coordinates for Portland, Oregon into the GPS, he gave a final wave to Robert and hit the road.

Flipping on the radio proved futile. Every station was static.

"Looks like Shelly has another little eccentricity," Peter smirked. The car buzzed down the highway like a happy little tin can until Peter turned onto the freeway and punched the accelerator to eighty-eight miles an hour.

"Turn left in one quarter mile," GPS commanded.

Peter frowned, "Wait a minute. This part of the road doesn't have a turnoff..."

The car gave a shake. It's headlights flashed and then blinked off, leaving Peter driving blind in the night. The vehicle lurched to the left and Peter yanked it back on the road only to discover he wasn't on the freeway anymore.

"What in the...?" he trailed off as the sun suddenly flashed, revealing an army of men in blue coats. Several of them had muskets raised to their shoulders. Peter followed their trajectory with his eyes to find another mass of soldiers in gray, aiming similar weapons at the opposing force. Peter's first instinct was to slam on the brakes until he realized stopping would put him in the middle of the firefight. Instead, he ducked his head and floored the gas. Bouncing over the rough ground, the Eagle burst through the battle. Peter flinched as a shot rang out.

"Now leaving Gettysburg. Make a right in one hundred feet," GPS demanded.

"There's nothing there but forest!" Peter screeched. The GPS sighed and the wheel jerked under Peter's hands. The wheels slipped in the dirt as the car made a hard right. Peter raised his hands to his face and screamed as they sped towards an old oak tree. The headlights glared and the Eagle quivered. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and tensed, waiting for impact.

Water pooled around his feet. At first Peter thought he'd wet himself out of fear but as he peeked open one eye, he found that the oak had disappeared and the car was slogging through a river. Roaring up the river bank, the headlights exposed the slack-jawed face of a man crouched near the water, gold pan clenched in his wrinkled hands. The car swerved and Peter glanced back to see the old gent fall head-first into the water.

"In point three miles, turn right," GPS directed. Peter gripped the wheel and fought for control over the rig. Clenching his teeth as the Eagle jumped a small hill, he smacked his head against the roof of the car. His eyes widened as the wheels shifted and aimed at an old cabin.

"No, no, no!" Peter yelled, stomping his foot on the brake. Instead of slowing, the car sped up. The headlights burned out as the car squealed towards the shack's front door.

"You have reached your destination," GPS chirped as the Eagle skid to a stop in a field. Peter lowered his head with a thump against the steering wheel and breathed a sigh of relief.

The car shook.

"Not again!" Peter cried. Glancing up, his lips trembled as he met the fierce gaze of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Inching his hand toward the ignition, he cranked the key. The engine was silent. Sweat trickled down Peter's forehead as his eyes flickered to the dash. The fuel gauge read empty.

"But...but I just filled the tank!" Peter gasped.

"Looks like 'ol Shelly has another quirk," GPS chuckled.

The car trembled as the dinosaur took another step closer.