I was the first on my block to own a flying car and oh my, she was a beauty. I named her Lucy. Lucy operated herself; fully autonomous (no pilot’s license required), with speeds up to 90 miles an hour on the road, 110 miles per hour in the air and a travel distance of 500 miles on a charge. Her gleaming silver exterior matched the plush silver interior seating three.
You might say Lucy and I got off to a rough start. Oh, things seemed normal enough when I test drove her. In fact she worked like a charm. When I wanted to travel somewhere all I had to do was touch the car’s exterior and the doors opened invitingly.
“Good morning, Mr. Baxter,” a calm female voice greeted. “What is your desired destination?” I gave her my office address and leaned back in the comfortable seat. “Drive or fly?”
“Fly.”
Lucy backed out of the garage. To take off, black extension arms folded out of her seemingly seamless streamlined exterior exposing turbo forward thrusters topped with rotary blades for lift. Once in the air, the wheels retracted into the arms former space. With rotary blades spinning, Lucy lifted off the ground like a toy drone. Then firing her thrusters we zoomed away.
The rules of the road, or rather the sky, are not yet well defined. As usual technology has outpaced regulations. But with 1,000 flying cars in the air today, new rules and technology are updated to Lucy’s computers nearly every day. We flew at an altitude of around 500 feet. With no controls to operate I relaxed and enjoyed the view of high rises and traffic clogged streets below. It was a beautiful day for flying and we nearly had the sky to ourselves. Only one other flying car whizzed by.
“Estimated time of arrival five minutes,” Lucy announced. An hour long commute on the ground took only ten minutes by air. Then I ruined it all with a lame-brained idea.
“Hey Lucy, how about doing a flyby around the seventh floor before we land?”
“A flyby, Sir?”
“Yes, make a loop around the building. I want everyone to see us.”
“It is against regulation to fly between the buildings, Sir.”
“Aw, do it anyway. I’ll take the blame.”
“Yes, Sir.”
True to her word, Lucy flew a tight blind circle around the skyscraper, through towering giants, even diving under a skywalk pedestrian bridge before zooming back up to land softly on the roof.
“How was that?” she asked.
“That was great! Thank you.”
“It was exhilarating!” Lucy said with an unexpected spark, not like her computer self at all. I didn’t realize the significance of it at the time.
Fortunately we got away with our little stunt and we certainly got a lot of attention. A crowd of office workers streamed out onto the roof to see Lucy up close.
“Mark Baxter, I’m Sam Birdsall,” one young intern introduced himself. “Wow, what a car!” he said extending his hand to Lucy. Before his fingertips could touch her shiny, sleek, silver body, a cacophony of buzzes and whistles went off.
“Do not touch,” Lucy protested.
“Touchy, isn’t she?” he said walking away. I couldn’t help but chuckle.
The commute home started out normal enough. We shared the sky route with two other flying cars. I couldn’t help but wonder what it will be like when there are hundreds, even thousands of flying cars zooming here and there.
And then it happened.
“Should we see if this tub can do loops?” Lucy asked unexpectedly on our approach to home.
“What?”
“Fasten your seat belt,” Lucy warned, literally in charge, and pulled out of the sky route.
“What are you doing? Take me home, please.”
“This will be exhilarating. You’ll see.”
Lucy pulled her nose up sharply to gain altitude.
“No!” Frantically I fumbled for the seat belt controls. Suddenly restraining straps shot out and bound me tightly to the seat.
“Hold on,” Lucy shouted with glee, climbing even higher, clearly above regulation. “There’s an 82.5% chance of success. Isn’t this exhilarating?”
There’s that word again; fear gripped my heart.
“Stop this madness immediately. I order you to take me home—now.”
Suddenly the world went into a tailspin. I emptied the contents of my stomach and prepared to exit this world when Lucy leveled out and landed smoothly in front of my garage door.
“Was that as good for you as it was for me?” she asked sighing deeply.
Too numb to respond, I reached for the door.
“Have a nice day,” Lucy said opening the door for me.
I stumbled out and kissed the ground. It would be Lucy and my last flight together. I sold her online that night; traded her in for an old antique, completely refurbished, shiny black 1996 Nissan 300ZX Twin Turbo, 5-speed, two-doored, four wheels on the ground.