IGMS Issue 17 Read Online Free Page A
Author: IGMS
had to be a joke. If Uncle Fritz believed the Mustang was cursed, why did he drive it everywhere? Maybe he meant not to drive with the top down -- Uncle Fritz's skin had really taken a beating, so he'd looked more like seventy-eight than fifty-eight.
After putting the note in a back pocket, Brad unlocked the door and got in. The Mustang started right up with a smooth roar. Uncle Fritz had kept the car in great shape despite its age.
"Hey, baby," he said, patting the dashboard, "Whaddaya say we go for a spin?"
After forty-five minutes aimlessly cruising on the highway, Brad looked at his watch and realized he was supposed to pick up Denise in five minutes. She knew him well enough to not actually expect him for another fifteen minutes after that, but he was a good forty miles away by now, so he would be late even by his usual standards. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed her number.
"Hey, I lost track of time," he told her. "Won't get there until seven-thirty or so. But I got something cool to show you."
Denise sighed. "Fine. See you when you get here." She clicked off.
He took the Mustang up to eighty-five on the freeway, and luckily there were no cops. When he pulled up to the curb beside Denise's apartment building, his watch read 7:28.
When Denise answered the door, she grinned. "So you were kidding about being late. I think this is the first time you've ever arrived on time."
"What?" Brad checked his watch again: 7:29. "Your watch must be slow. It's 7:30."
"No,
Jeopardy
just finished. It's seven o'clock."
Brad pulled out his cell phone and checked its clock. Denise was right. "Huh. Wonder how that happened." He reset his watch to seven. "Now let me show you the car I inherited from my uncle."
The next morning, Brad overslept, which was not unusual. He rushed out the door seven minutes before his ten o'clock class, and after an eleven-minute drive to campus and six minutes to park and get to the classroom, he somehow managed to walk in the door just before the bell rang. The wall clock said it was ten o'clock sharp; Brad's watch said it was ten after.
As the professor droned on about some Greek philosopher, Brad wondered if there was something about the Mustang that made his watch run fast. Maybe that's what Uncle Fritz meant about a curse.
After a week with the Mustang, Brad had no doubts: the car was magic. He didn't have a clue how it worked, but no matter where he was going, he never arrived late if he drove the car. Somehow the car seemed to know where he was going and when he needed to be there.
His watch always showed him to be as late as he thought he was; but according to everyone else's clocks, he was always on time. Since his cell phone updated its time from the phone company network, it agreed with everyone else.
No wonder Uncle Fritz had never been late. Then, in a flash of insight, Brad realized what the curse was: he was living his life measured by the seconds on his watch, and they were ticking away faster than the rest of the world's.
He thought back to Uncle Fritz's funeral. Only fifty-eight years old, his uncle had looked twenty years older.
That won't happen to me, Brad decided. And the next morning he tried an experiment. He woke up early and drove off to his ten o'clock class at 9:40.
Without rushing, he arrived at the classroom a couple of minutes before the bell. His watch agreed with the wall clock.
If I only use the Mustang's power for emergencies, Brad thought, I can live a lot longer than Uncle Fritz. What a fool Uncle Fritz had been to waste so much of his life by leaving late to things. If he had just left on time, he would rarely have had to use the Mustang's magic to arrive on time.
Uncle Fritz really should have been a more responsible driver.
His cell phone's ring interrupted his studying. He didn't recognize the number. "Hello?"
"Brad, this is Denise's mom. She was driving home from work and . . ." Her voice broke. "I'm at the hospital with her. You'd
After putting the note in a back pocket, Brad unlocked the door and got in. The Mustang started right up with a smooth roar. Uncle Fritz had kept the car in great shape despite its age.
"Hey, baby," he said, patting the dashboard, "Whaddaya say we go for a spin?"
After forty-five minutes aimlessly cruising on the highway, Brad looked at his watch and realized he was supposed to pick up Denise in five minutes. She knew him well enough to not actually expect him for another fifteen minutes after that, but he was a good forty miles away by now, so he would be late even by his usual standards. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed her number.
"Hey, I lost track of time," he told her. "Won't get there until seven-thirty or so. But I got something cool to show you."
Denise sighed. "Fine. See you when you get here." She clicked off.
He took the Mustang up to eighty-five on the freeway, and luckily there were no cops. When he pulled up to the curb beside Denise's apartment building, his watch read 7:28.
When Denise answered the door, she grinned. "So you were kidding about being late. I think this is the first time you've ever arrived on time."
"What?" Brad checked his watch again: 7:29. "Your watch must be slow. It's 7:30."
"No,
Jeopardy
just finished. It's seven o'clock."
Brad pulled out his cell phone and checked its clock. Denise was right. "Huh. Wonder how that happened." He reset his watch to seven. "Now let me show you the car I inherited from my uncle."
The next morning, Brad overslept, which was not unusual. He rushed out the door seven minutes before his ten o'clock class, and after an eleven-minute drive to campus and six minutes to park and get to the classroom, he somehow managed to walk in the door just before the bell rang. The wall clock said it was ten o'clock sharp; Brad's watch said it was ten after.
As the professor droned on about some Greek philosopher, Brad wondered if there was something about the Mustang that made his watch run fast. Maybe that's what Uncle Fritz meant about a curse.
After a week with the Mustang, Brad had no doubts: the car was magic. He didn't have a clue how it worked, but no matter where he was going, he never arrived late if he drove the car. Somehow the car seemed to know where he was going and when he needed to be there.
His watch always showed him to be as late as he thought he was; but according to everyone else's clocks, he was always on time. Since his cell phone updated its time from the phone company network, it agreed with everyone else.
No wonder Uncle Fritz had never been late. Then, in a flash of insight, Brad realized what the curse was: he was living his life measured by the seconds on his watch, and they were ticking away faster than the rest of the world's.
He thought back to Uncle Fritz's funeral. Only fifty-eight years old, his uncle had looked twenty years older.
That won't happen to me, Brad decided. And the next morning he tried an experiment. He woke up early and drove off to his ten o'clock class at 9:40.
Without rushing, he arrived at the classroom a couple of minutes before the bell. His watch agreed with the wall clock.
If I only use the Mustang's power for emergencies, Brad thought, I can live a lot longer than Uncle Fritz. What a fool Uncle Fritz had been to waste so much of his life by leaving late to things. If he had just left on time, he would rarely have had to use the Mustang's magic to arrive on time.
Uncle Fritz really should have been a more responsible driver.
His cell phone's ring interrupted his studying. He didn't recognize the number. "Hello?"
"Brad, this is Denise's mom. She was driving home from work and . . ." Her voice broke. "I'm at the hospital with her. You'd
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