TF 07Movie. A newly arrived Autobot explores a little, and is quickly taken in by an interesting driving subculture.
Two Wheeler
The arrival marked a hot day in early summer. It was unknown exactly which day, but that isn't particularly important. It was summer. It was hot. And the meteor struck at midday in the middle of nowhere.
Now, one should consider that most perceptions of warmth and coolness are entirely relative. What is ungodly hot to someone in northern Nunavut is likely almost downright cold to a southern Californian. So when the author states that the weather is unbearably hot, she means hot in relation to the average temperature of wherever she may be talking about.
Where is that exactly? Why, central Canada of course! Where 30 degrees Celsius is enough to make any self-respecting Canadian throw in their towels, trudge inside, and turn on the air-conditioning.
Except for the motorcyclists. In which case, they don't turn in until the weather hits mid-forties.
As it stands, however, we have a kind-of meteorite and a lot of open plain. Or at least, a lot of open plain. The 'meteorite' had vanished, leaving only a small blemish on the long fields of grass, and only just visible from the road nearby. The road held only moderate traffic, with the average of perhaps three vehicles a minute- give or take. The sky showed only wisps of cloud, and the only landmarks were a set of traffic lights down the road and some low hills far off to the right.
Well, there was the occasional smattering of trees and shrubbery, but it was hardly noticeable. It was hard to believe when people said Saskatchewan was even flatter.
In other words, the scenery was boring, nothing was going on, and it was hot out. Enough to make any person want to do nothing but stay inside and play cards.
Although to be fair, there was one unusual feature waylaying the scenery. A forlorn looking Smart Car, parked by the side of the road and apparently empty. A passing van and its occupants wondered at it, but ultimately did nothing. It had broken down, it was assumed, and soon to be picked up by its errant owner.
Of course, no such thing would happen as the car had no owner and would therefore not be picked up by anybody except the possible tow truck.
And even then it would likely be long gone before that happened.
For the alien robot disguised as a wayward smart car, time was of little matter beyond what was going to happen next. There were several options available, and each of the looked equally appealing.
First- there was simply heading straight south and to Optimus and his team. This was very tempting, as no contact had been made to any other being of the same race for many hundreds of stellar cycles. The trajectory made getting onto Earth had been sloppy at best, and as a result had ended up far north of the intended destination. It was a rookie mistake, but not one that could be fixed now.
Second- there was hanging around for a few hours and taking in the sights and sounds. Observing this new home and its inhabitants. Surely Optimus wouldn't begrudge that- provided haste was still made rejoining with the main group.
And there lied another problem. The little Bot's long-range communications were all but useless, damaged long before even entering into this solar system. There was not way to contact Optimus except in person, who the Internet revealed to be at least a weeks drive away. A few hours tacked on to observe the local wildlife couldn't make that much difference, right?
Decision made, there was only a moment spent struggling with a temperamental holo-projector, and the little car sped off down the almost barren Alberta roads.
It was found in short order that despite the emptiness of the original landscape, this new world was positively teeming with life. Bugs, plants, animals, cities and cities of people… they were all everywhere. Of course, all of this could easily be searched out and selected off the Internet, but seeing it in real time made things just that much more authentic.
Not twenty human minutes had passed then had the Smart Car's attention been caught by a particularly fascinating phenomenon. The only seemingly inhabited car found itself following only just behind a pair of motorcycles, doing almost exactly the speed limit. At first, this didn't seem at all important. But then, as time went on, more and more attention was paid to them. There were actually quite a few motorcycles on the long straight roads, likely due to the warm weather.
The first time it happened it was assumed that the bikes the car was following had known the bike in the opposing lane. Certainly larger vehicle's drivers did not wave at each other. The second and third times it happened, it was deemed another look into the well of the Internet was in order.
It was a greeting. The riders on opposing lanes of traffic would extend their left hand to just beyond the handlebars, in a sort of wave to the other person. It was a sign of respect. Camaraderie. Fellowship. The front bike was likely a beginner, as the extended had stayed out for only a moment before quickly returning to its firm grip on the handlebars. The back bike was much more confident, extended hand returning to the grip confidently after the other bike had passed. The passenger as well extended a hand in greeting, despite not actually driving the motorbike. It was endearing, and already a transcanner was floating its way over the two bikes.
It became immediately clear that neither of them were big enough. The one was close – an awful tan-coloured '84 Yamaha Goldwing said the internet- but not enough. The other was much too small –another Yamaha, though this one only 250cc and an attractive shade of red- as well as being old enough and small enough that it could not go any faster than 110 kilometers an hour. Neither would do. Something else would have to be found. And if nothing could be found, Ratchet could be asked to modify something.
Yes, Arcee liked these quaint little two-wheelers very much. They were polite, efficient, aesthetically wonderful, and their culture, such as it was, was much the sort of thing she enjoyed; that is, a love for the open air and a chance to get together with old friends. She was determined to find a suitably sized one before the day was out… Though adjustments would have to be made. Even then she may still have to consult Ratchet to make such a small form fit adequately. She was not a large Bot by any means, but motorcycles were small vehicles. She resigned herself to some fine-tuning, if only she could find the right form…
Not a mile and a half down the road, a Buell Firebolt and it's driver turned onto the highway, eager to get the day underway and some riding done.
Two Wheeler
Another sort of 'What if'. Arcee was supposed to be in the movie, but never made it there. Instead, I decided for her to be one of the first few to touch down, as well as a thinking point to shuffle her from car to bike. The smart car was a random choice and I have no idea if the Smartie is actually that much bigger than a bike. I really don't know. I'll probably find out later that she could go from a smartie to a large bike quite easily.
If you don't get the Buell Firebolt thing- that was the bike Arcee was supposed to have turned into. I haven't a clue what it looks like, so I couldn't tell you if we actually have one locally up here. I took creative liberties for the sake of the story. If nothing else, said biker could be assumed to be a tourist. Crazier things have happened.
Another note on Biker etiquette: I myself am fairly new to actually driving bike's (though I've been riding them since the tender age of two), so if something here isn't right or doesn't match your locality, either assume it's a difference in area's, or just that I'm not quite knowledgeable enough yet.
And just for the record, Harley's are driving mechanical deathtraps. Buy a Yamaha. Or heck, I don't care, a Honda even. Kawey's are hit-and-miss.
I've only just noticed that all of my chosen vehicles are relatively fuel-efficient. Save the earth people!