Part 3: "Just In Time"
Meandering away from the airport, I stop at Timbucks for another soykaf. I know you can get 'em in pill form now, but where's the fun in that?
On my way back through town, I take a couple low-key passengers who just want to go home after shopping. Nothing special there, so I keep the antics down and stick to the main streets. After that, I get a closest-cab call from HQ for a pickup at the bus terminal. As luck would have it, that was me.
When I get there and see the customer, I get a hell of a shock.
Thin female, five-foot-lots. Crimson hair with lipstick and nails to match. Casual pose with hips canted just-so, backpack slung casually over one shoulder.
She's a near-perfect photocopy of Sonja. I know it's not her; the face is off and she's not quite that tall, but she's close enough to bring back all those memories.
We go through the formalities: hello-how-de-do's, bags in the trunk, where-ya-going, all that stuff. I start off into traffic, but I'm off my game, half-lost in my own backstory.
Ah, Red Light Sonja. I miss that crazy bitch. Last time I saw her, she was applying a crowbar none-too-gently to the side of my head. Won't claim I didn't deserve it, a little. At least I got a new eye out of it.
There'd been a race. She started this thing, back when she was a manager at Combat Cab. If you wanted a raise, you had to beat her across town during rush hour. But nobody ever could. I came the closest, using the tricks she'd taught me, but still couldn't win. We were lovers at the time, and I'm pretty sure I got lessons that nobody else got. No, not those lessons. For driving, I mean!
But I'd resolved to myself that I was gonna win, even though she was clearly the better driver.
The way we drive, it's all about the patterns. You know the patterns and insert yourself into them. It gets harder when the patterns change mid-stream. Also harder when you're not in the right frame of mind, like when you're pissed off. It's a zen thing, you know?
So first thing I did, right off the start line, was cut her off. She hates that. Then I did it again. I had to work hard to stay enough in front of her, but the look on her face in the rearview was worth it. She finally pulled ahead, which is when the second part of the plan kicked in.
I knew what route she'd use - I could see the patterns too. Some parts of it were so tough that it made me queasy to even think about - there were some parkades and intersections that were damn tricky to navigate, but she wouldn't even be slowed down. Unless, for example, there were some broken-down cars that just happened to be in the way at that precise moment. And another place where there was a tense, but secret, police standoff after a certain anonymous phone call.
Even with all these completely random circumstances (you can see my gas-powered halo, can't ya?), I was still barely even with her. I knew she'd pull ahead. I needed one more trick.
The last part of the course required us to cross the river. There are bridges, but of course those are natural choke points during high-traffic times. The rail bridge is a possibility, if there's no train on it (don't argue with a train. Even Sonja and I would lose that one), but the only alternative is the high bridge. They call it a 'Double-Leaf Bascule' or something like that, and it had been left up for the last two weeks for repairs.
Sonja would take the rail bridge, even though the high bridge was closer. She was damn good - the best, in fact - but she wasn't crazy. To beat her, I'd need to be that crazy. I followed her for a while, almost keeping up, then suddenly cut off for the high bridge. She'd instantly realize what I was doing, but I'd taken one of the last possible routes - she'd have to double back if she wanted to follow me.
Huge gates with warning lights and traffic cones blocked the bridge, a piece of cake for me to get around, but the true test would be maintaining the speed to get over the gap. I felt the impact as I hit the upward angle, gas pedal all the way to the floor. The gap loomed in front of me as the speedometer quivered downward. Then ... open air. That is a sensation I will never forget. I'd done the calculations in advance (I'm not an idiot, and I know my physics!) but there's a world of difference between theory and reality.
WHAM.
I made it! The impact was just over the top of the opposite span. I hit the brakes hard. Everything I had was tested to the limit. I swear that poor cab was held together by nothing more than my force of will. A tooth-rattling smash at the bottom, one more bounce, swerve around the gates, and off down the street. One of the tires had blown, and everything else wobbled like a drunkard, but it was only two blocks to the finish.
As I gunned it down the street and started to make the last left turn to the finish, I caught a glimpse of Sonja's car flashing up on the right. I took everything that that little car could give me and I did the unthinkable one last time... I cut her off again.
As I crossed the finish, the car's engine finally quit, and it settled to the road with an audible groan. But I'd done it. I'd beaten her! And that's when the crowbar hit. I told you that cutting her off was a bad idea...
"You missed my stop."
I snap out of my reverie and look around. My customer was right. I'd been so lost in thought that I'd missed her turnoff. Cursing to myself, I apologize and turn the car around. Hopefully they wouldn't notice, back at the office.
[TBelt: You missed her stop! Hahaha]
Damnit!