James May’s Wild Ride Chapter One

A story I was co-writing with my Figment friend Intrepidation.  After he showed me the British Top Gear episode where the hosts’ mothers test-drove some cars, we were inspired to write this.  We kind of put the story on hold, but feel free to check  back to this post and see if it ‘s been updated at some point in the future. 😛

James May’s Wild Ride

(by Allison in the TARDIS)

1:Captain Slow

James May was driving slowly along the beautiful British countryside in his car, when suddenly, Jeremy Clarkson called him on his mobile phone.  He answered it, annoyed, because a) it distracted him from his safe driving, and b) he knew what was coming.

“What?”  he intoned in a bored voice, holding the phone to his ear.

“Captain Slow!!!”  The voice of Jeremy Clarkson exploded out of the speaker.

And c) his mum was in the car too.

“Who’s that, James?”  Mrs. May asked innocently.

James May scowled.  “What is it, Jeremy?”  he grumbled.

“Nothing!  Hahahaha!”  Jeremy Clarkson giggled, and cut the connection from his end, wherever that might be.

The frown on James May’s face grew larger.  His eyebrows twitched, as did his fingers as well, influencing the steering wheel, which he held tightly in his twitching hands.  He reached out with his left hand to turn on the radio.

Bob Seger’s voice filled the cabin as he sang about nights in Hollywood, specifically in Hollywood’s hills.

“This is rubbish,” Mrs. May scolded the rock star, scowling too.  “Why would I want to go to some hill in Hollywood?  I could fall and break my hip.”

“That’s not like you, Mum,” James May said, surprised.  “This is coming from the daredevil who traumatized me in my youth.”

Suddenly the radio turned off, and the rest of the car with it.

“Are we out of gas?”  Mrs. May inquired.

James May braked the car to a stop at the side of the road and tried turning the key.

“This car is rubbish,” he groaned when nothing happened.  “I’ll check under the bonnet.”

The driver door swung open and a very irritated James May climbed out.  He lifted up the hood, examined it for five seconds, found nothing wrong in those five seconds, and then slammed the hood back down with a huge bang.

“That isn’t like you, James.”  Mrs. May said when James May returned to the inside of the car.  “You are usually so calm and nice, even to your cars.”

James May glared out the windshield, unable to meet his mum’s gaze.  “This is the second car in the past week to break on me, and this one is Jeremy’s!  He will kill me.”

“Mr. Clarkson?”  Mrs. May asked, confused.  “But he is such a nice young man.”

“You must be thinking of the wrong Mr. Clarkson, Mum.”  James May corrected her.

“Then let’s phone for help.”  Mrs. May suggested.

“Okay.”  James May picked up the cellphone and dialed 999.

Some bored sounding policeman picked up on the other end.  “How are you, gentlemen,” he greeted them in a monotone.

“Oh, yes, hi!”  James May said, not bothering to think about how the policeman knew he was a gentleman and not a gentlewoman.  “I am in a broken car at a farm in the country.”

No response came from the policeman.

“Are you there?”  James May repeated into the silent phone.  “Is there anyone there?”

“All your base are belong to us.”  a voice suddenly said, causing James May to shudder.  The voice had not come from the phone, it had come from all around!

“James?”  Mrs. May asked.  “Why are you shivering, James?  Are you cold?”

“Can’t you hear it?”  James May squeaked, staring around wildly as the mysterious voice continued.

“You are on the way to destruction.  You have no chance to survive, make your time.  Ha ha ha ha.” the voice said.

Suddenly, the car disappeared from around James May, as did everything that was in the car that wasn’t James May.  The poor gentleman found himself in a blank, white room with a mural.  The mural showed a black scene dotted with sparkling white and blue dots and a high definition representation of the Earth.

It took James May another five seconds for him to realize that the mural was not a mural, but rather a window.

“I’m in space!”  he exclaimed.


“Affirmative,” a computerized voice announced from somewhere around James May.  “You are in a space ship.  You are on the space station Jalopy.

Jalopy?”  James May repeated.  “Now why would anyone name a space ship after a car?”  As soon as he got off this thing, he wanted to find a car named after a space ship….

To be continued.

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