Kyu looked at his watch. It had been a present from his hermit uncle, who lived far away in the former Saskatchewan province. Nine-forty, he thought. Fifteen minutes to get to the railyard, and five extra minutes in case I get diverted. He was thinking about his uncle just now, and had planned to visit him, as it was the last Sunday of the month again. Kyu was an odd kid, being more interested in machines than the nonsense the schools were teaching him. Ecological sciences, economic equality, group interaction-it was all supposed to make him a better person, but he only found himself bored with it. He guessed it was because his parents had taken him to the run-down-looking farm his uncle had owned since before the NATO Civil War when he was only three years old. His uncle, Walter McKenzie, had been a sports car collector for several years, even though it took so much money. He was a mechanical genius, though, and some of the derelict cars he’d found had been beautifully and masterfully restored. Kyu remembered some of the rides he’d taken with his uncle. They were exhilarating, exciting beyond words for a three-year-old.
     Then the various ecological movements had passed the Natural Purity Act, and all driving had been banned beyond most city limits. Even in the cities you needed to get several licenses and register your car with at least four different agencies-especially if you used internal combustion. The worst part was the clause stating that if you were discovered driving outside the city limits, you were put under house arrest for one year, and your car-if it employed internal combustion-was confiscated and scrapped. The challenges of that task were not easy, for masses of motor gangs and car cowboys prowled the countryside, looking for any opportunity to upset the government police, and keep their beloved Corvettes and Mustangs.
     This turmoil paved the way for the Motor Law Enforcement Corps, who took care of that rather quickly, using a slew of new technology to catch these criminals-however, they took punishment one step further. They still used house arrest if they discovered that you were driving, but their Chief Officer had received permission from the National Chancellor and the Alliance Senate to use deadly force against anyone caught in the act. Almost seven hundred vehicular outlaws had been murdered in the two months that followed. The rare survivors had either turned their cars in and pledged never to drive again, hid their cars and rejoined society under an assumed identity, or turned in their comrades under threat of execution. Kyu’s uncle had tried to smuggle parts of his collection to the city, but his farm had been raided while he was away. Nearly his entire collection was seized and scrapped. Among them was a silver Dodge Motorsport Intrepid, two different years of Corvette, a Jaguar XKE, and a DeLorean.
     As Kyu walked, he kept his mind on the car his uncle had found for him. It was an antique 1978 Corvette Stingray T-top-about 60 years old! He’d been unable to believe his eyes when his uncle towed that old heap to the barn-and five months later, it was in perfect running condition. They’d worked on it for so long, and it was almost roadworthy-it just needed paint. He’d come up on every Sunday for the last month, and that was when the old car really began to take shape.
      Kyu turned a corner. There was Aaron, Kyu’s only real friend, and the only person who knew about Kyu’s uncle outside the family.
      “Are you going down to the railyard again, Kyu? Can I come?” he asked.
      “Not today, Aaron. I have some things to do.”
      “Last time you were down there, I followed you but you weren’t in any of the usual hiding places. Where’d you go?”
      “I’d gone up to my uncle’s place again.”
      “Could you take me sometime? I wanna see this ‘Corvette’-or whatever you call it-you say you’re working on. I wanna learn how to drive. Can your uncle teach me?” Most cars anymore were autopilot equipped, and don’t require much interaction on the part of the driver.
      “Like I said, not today. I’ll ask him next time I go.”
      “Okay, but I really wanna see this car.”
      “I’ll ask my uncle. Now I’ve got to get going, so I’ll see you later.”
      “See ya. I still think you’re going down to the railyard.”
      Kyu looked at his watch again. He had just over ten minutes to get to the railyard. I’ll have to be careful, but quick, Kyu puzzled. If I go in by the culvert, I should see the guard coming. Here’s hoping that there’s a gondola close by. He ran through the tall grass to the culvert-one of the many hiding places he’d scoped out, and watched for the security guard. It was a bad idea to get caught trespassing on government property, because no matter how much you protested, you would be imprisoned automatically on charges of attempted terrorism.
      Kyu listened from his hiding place as the guard walked by. The crunch of gravel got louder, and faded as the guard continued down the length of the yard. The guards were also positioned on the other side of the yard, where it bordered the Wire-the physical and diplomatic border of the city, so named for the solid wall of barbed and razor wire making up the fence. The task of those guards was as much to keep the rare outlaws out of the city as it was to keep the citizens in.
      Then a noise came. It was an airhorn-the audible signal on the turbine locomotives used to haul hundred-and-seventy-car freights through the wilderness that once was Canada. Kyu recognized the indication the engineer was sounding. It meant ‘Train ready to depart’. That also meant that guards would inspect the train for stowaways. If you were caught trying to escape on a freight train, you would be slapped with defection and insubordination charges. Leaving on a passenger train was particularly expensive, and you could only get round-trip tickets anyway. Kyu thought quickly. Where can I hide that they won’t look? He looked to his left, and saw a gondola. It was filled with scrap, and Kyu thought it would be dangerous, but it was the only place to hide easily and quickly. He grabbed the handrails and pulled himself up and clambered over the edge, falling in on a pile of silicon chunks. He laid there, hoping they wouldn’t discover him. Scrambling over the chips, he dove behind a small mound in the middle of the car.
      Please let them not find me.....

      The guard looked down the track. The other pair of guards is coming down the other side, he guessed. He climbed into a boxcar, and declared it empty. His comrade moved on to the next car, a flatcar. Seeing no one on the empty deck, he walked to the next car, a gondola. Silicon chips filled it almost to the edge, meaning this one should be easy to check. He climbed the ladder.
      Then the airhorn sounded again. The train was leaving! The guard jumped to the ground as the car lurched from the slack and inertia. His partner activated a small radio, and yelled into the microphone, telling the operator to hold the train. The steel monster of transportation still accelerated, leaving the aggravated guards behind. The security car rolled lazily by, signaling the end of the train.
      Kyu dared not look over the side of the gondola, for fear of being discovered. He waited until the train began to pick up speed to sit up and see where he was. He watched as the city slowly disappeared behind him. The train would reach the Manitoba-Saskatchewan border in two hours. Then would come the problem of disembarking from the train.

      Kyu stared at his watch as he’d done for the past two hours. He noticed the train begin to slow, and climbed over the end of the car to a handrail, fumbled around the corner, and readied himself to jump to the ground as the big turbines slowed to fifteen miles per hour-necessary for inspecting the train for free riders. He watched as the creek bridge came up, and no doubt the guards would be down the main line about a thousand feet. He jumped as the land rose again to meet the roadbed. A large, flat, uncomfortable rock broke his fall. Try and land on dirt next time, Kyu, he thought to himself. Or bring a mattress along...
      He stood up and dusted himself off. The ridge was only half a mile away, and so was the path through what used to be the sloping rear pasture of his uncle’s farm. He ran like the wind, excitement sending shivers down his spine. Feeling much like he did on his first visit, Kyu ran to the back porch where his uncle was stepping out to fill a bird feeder.
      “Kyu!” his uncle exclaimed. He was a tall man, with a young-looking face, but his hair and beard were rapidly turning white. He had his blue jacket and jeans on, instead of the sport coat and golf shirt Kyu was used to.
      “I certainly didn’t expect to see you all the way out here today, nephew.”
      “I know. I wanted to come out and see how the car’s coming, maybe take a ride.”
      “Well, I can’t do much today,” Uncle Walt said as they stepped back into the house. “I twisted my ankle pretty bad yesterday, trying to fit the carburetor on that Stingray.”
      “Aw, man.” Kyu felt dejected. No carburetor on the car meant no trips, and the paint still hadn’t arrived, so he couldn’t do that. He sank down into a chair, not seeing the look of realization on his uncle’s face.
      “Of course! Do you know what’s in the barn, Kyu?”
      “Just a bunch of junk and my car. What else is there?”
      “They never got my entire collection four years ago, Kyu. I still have one car.”
      “You do?” Kyu looked up at his uncle and wondered. Is it the big red convertible? he hoped. The one whose name I could never pronounce? The one that went so fast it seemed it would fly? Could he have saved my favorite of them all?
      They stepped out of the old ranch house, and walked to the barn. Kyu ran down the embankment and lunged for the door. His uncle stepped behind him, and they pulled on the barn door with all their strength.
      Kyu looked around. He saw nothing but the Stingray, a deteriorating farm wagon, haphazardly stacked tools rusting away, and a stack of vegetable crates against the rear wall, where the barn foundation dug in to the sloping hill.
      “Over here,” Uncle Walt motioned. He walked towards the towering mound of vegetable crates. Kyu walked over and looked at them. Some were filled with old magazines and books, some had tools, others held assorted toys and odds and ends that were probably useless by now. One crate was filled with all sorts of outdated recording devices and related recordings. There were old vinyl albums of various sizes, two types of magnetic cassette, and a few particularly shiny discs the size of a saucer Kyu told himself he’d investigate sometime.
      “Time to go to work, Kyu,” his uncle said. Kyu began to remove the musty crates with his uncle’s help, and soon they were standing in front of a canvas sheet about six feet high, and six wide. Uncle Walt took the sheet off the wall, unhooking the grommets from the nails in a simple doorframe. The space revealed held a large canvas-covered shape and a rope.
      “Grab the rope-let’s pull it out,” Uncle Walt instructed. Kyu grabbed the tired cord and, with his uncle in front of him, heaved as hard as his muscles could bear. They heaved again and again, and once more to pull the heavy object into the center of the room. Kyu grabbed hold of the cover, and threw it back to reveal a shining car-a brilliant red Barchetta, a relic from a better, long vanished time.
      It gleamed. The flashy red coat of paint felt as smooth as glass as Kyu ran his hand over the hood. The chrome sparkled even in the dim light of the barn. Its interior, done in soft white leather (!), looked as comfortable as the day it was bought.
      “The 1975 Barchetta ‘Road Racer’ Custom Convertible,” Uncle Walt mused. “Also known as ‘The Terror Of Winnipeg’. I bought it off of an old friend in ‘86 who was always getting in trouble for racing on the highways. They installed a racing engine at the factory, but that wasn’t enough for Jason-he wanted to do zero to sixty in half a second! He totally rebuilt the rearend assembly and transmission-and sometimes, when he’d floor it, he’d tear up his modifications! He also revamped the engine every once in a while-just to get a little more horsepower out of it than before.”
      “Wow!” Kyu exclaimed. “Is it still that fast?”
      “Yes, and no. I took the rearend and transmission back to factory specifications, but the engine still has a few little upgrades he added. Most of them I had to redo, some I removed altogether, but one important one is the carburetor. I replaced the original because Jason wore the hell out of that one-and I still can’t figure out how he did it without the rest of that engine falling apart around it!”
      “It’s still gotta be pretty fast-I remember you taking me for a ride the one year and we went so fast I thought we’d take off!”
      “Well, it came with a 180-mile-per-hour speedometer for the racing engine, but I’ve only ever taken her up to 145, maybe 150-and that was on a racetrack where the road surface was good. Don’t try that out here-the roads are deteriorating fast nowadays.”
      Kyu stared at the beautiful machine in wonder. What was it like, driving in 1975? he pondered. All the Corvettes and Chargers and old T-Birds and Fairlanes still running all over-that would have been something to see!
      But this... This would have really stood out...
      He opened the door and sat down in the driver’s seat. The comfortable leather seat seemed to welcome him into the car as he looked at the interior, the gauges, and most longingly of all, the steering wheel.
      “Why not take her for a spin?” his uncle suggested. “You can go ahead, but I’ll have to stay behind what with this ankle. Go ahead, I trust you.” Kyu sat in the car, mouth open, in surprise. Uncle Walt thought for a second, and said, “Oh, yes, the key... Now where did I hide it?” He reached up to the rusty lantern on a nearby post and felt around the base.
      “Aha,” he said, decisively. He pulled down a key on a ring with a plastic tag that said, on one side, ‘Large Larry’s Used Cars-Large Deals At Low Prices’. The other had a note taped to it. Kyu could just see the writing on it. It read, “Walt-Barchetta key. Can’t find original key tag. Thanks for trading Barracuda. Jason.”
      Tossing the key to Kyu, he mentioned, “I saw some MLEC cars go up the road, and come back down this morning. Be extremely careful, Kyu.”
      “I will, Uncle,” Kyu replied.
      Kyu slid the key into the slot, and turned. The big motor churned to life, and Kyu pressed the gas, the engine responding with a roar.
      “Just be careful,” Uncle Walt said as Kyu eased the car out of the barn.
      “Sure,” he replied. “I’ll be back in a couple hours.”
      Kyu gunned the engine, and rolled up the driveway, turning on to the road. The pavement was worn, but still driveable. He looked down the deserted main road, and thought, What the hey, Let’s see what she can do.
      He floored the engine. The beautiful car shot forward and roared down the pavement in anticipation of what lay ahead. He turned, climbing a large hill, and running into a cut in the mountain behind. Within a few more turns, and still more climbing, lay a tunnel. Kyu fired up the engine, accelerating like he was being chased by monsters.
      Bursting through the tunnel, he topped 120 miles per hour. The Barchetta showed no signs of wearing down as Kyu shot from the tunnel portal, with a fearsome wake of air rushing in behind. He reached the summit for the mountain, and slowed for a junction. He made a turn onto a larger four-lane highway, just as abandoned as all the roads were out here.
      Kyu felt the wind rush through his hair, flying it all to the rear, and messing up his usually-styled mane. Under his expert hand, the beautiful Barchetta raced onward, nary a drift out of line more than he allowed. He listened as the engine, the wonderful mystery of internal combustion sang under the racy hood, and the transmission, shifting, barely perceptibly playing its mechanical symphony.
      He felt the adrenaline firing through his body. He pushed the car on faster and further than he could ever remember going.
      The leather seat seemed to get more comfortable mile after mile. Kyu could smell the hot metal, the lube oil, all the scents of the engine, excepting the smelly exhaust, streaming back at him. All of those, mixed with the countryside’s natural scent (caused, Kyu guessed, by the flowers that ran rampant across the fields) made it a driving experience he would never forget no matter how he tried, nor would he ever want to.
      The Barchetta’s chrome trim gleamed. The countryside, the mountains, they all blurred as Kyu and the amazing car rocketed past. Kyu felt everything there was to feel, every nerve in his body screaming to go faster, farther, longer, not wanting to take his foot off of the accelerator until he’d broken the speed of sound. He sped on, loving every minute of the race with nobody he was so intent on winning.

      A jumpsuited man lowered his electrobinoculars as the red car raced off into the distance. He sat back down in his own vehicle, and activated the nuclear engine, alerting another driver to the activity in the area. Then he drove away.

      Kyu sped on, the needle hovering at one hundred-ten as he came around a wide, easy curve. He was descending back into the valley, and he rocketed along the highway with ease.
      Things just can’t get any better, he thought. He’d been out for two hours by now, and had made a couple stops to investigate an old farmhouse and a small industry. Neither one contained much of interest to Kyu, and he didn’t waste much time there. He decided to cut this run short because he’d have to catch the train home again in about two hours more.
      Then it happened. Kyu, getting back in the Barchetta from the latter stop, happened to look up at the road across the mountainside about a mile in front of him. A metallic gleam flashed across the mountainside and Kyu knew it was only one thing: MLEC patrol!
      He jumped into the seat, gunned the engine, and took off like a shot. The enforcement cruiser, an alloy vehicle two lanes wide, with a large electromagnetic gun mounted on one side and a large cockpit on the other, raced through the valley, screaming in behind the Barchetta.
      Kyu drove like a madman, flying for the onramp to the highway he’d disembarked. He knew the territory well, thanks to his uncle. Unfortunately, so did the enforcer. His aircar flew behind, catching up almost effortlessly, but slowly.
      He won’t be able to turn on a divided highway, so if I can make a U-turn at a junction, I might be able to lose him, Kyu thought. He put the pedal to the metal, rocketing ahead, and putting the Barchetta through a serious test. His speed read almost a hundred and sixty as he jetfired down the highway, whose surface was still in good enough shape to make such a trip. He jammed on the brakes, and hung the turn. He was on the other side! He’d escaped!
      Then Kyu looked ahead. Another was streaking towards him! No! Our combined speed must be more than three hundred miles an hour! Kyu panicked. He threw the car into a J-turn, braking frantically, tires screaming at the torture they were experiencing. Slamming hard as a hammer on the accelerator, Kyu screamed ahead like a gleaming red demon, pursued by the enforcers all the while.
      He led them down the highway, still unsure what he could do to survive, but one thing was for sure: Kyu, get the hell back to your uncle’s house, he thought to himself.
      Kyu saw the turnoff to the road back to his uncle’s, and risked the turn, barely slowing down. He felt the car lean like crazy, suspecting it would lift off the road and flip. The enforcers followed suit, their width keeping them firmly planted on the road, even at one hundred and fifty miles an hour. Kyu shot down the mountain, racing like a madman. He flew through the tunnel, but the enforcers didn’t so much as slow down. They were actually beginning to catch up with Kyu, especially going downhill. He screamed through the turns, barely avoiding scraping all the paint away on the rusty guardrails. The enforcers did not try to avoid the guardrails, but rather nylon panels extended from inside their wheel wells and acted as deflectors. This proved fatal for the second. The first flew into a curve, still pursuing Kyu, both doing almost one hundred seventy. The first enforcer leaned into the guardrail, distressing it severely. The second burst through the deteriorating steel, and flew to a fiery destruction almost two hundred feet below.
      The first would not be deterred, however; he was still gaining on Kyu with ever increasing speed. Kyu realized where he was going, and so did the enforcer behind him. There was a one-lane bridge crossing the same creek that ran by his uncle’s place. Kyu put the engine to a real test, seriously straining the limits of the Barchetta and its young driver. The enforcer poured on the speed as well, hoping to catch the criminal car before it got away.
      There was the bridge, ahead of Kyu. He put on one final psychotic burst of speed, praying that the enforcer would back off before he reached the bridge.
      Kyu flew between the steel girders, reaching safety. He slowed down rapidly, spinning the car one hundred eighty degrees and watched what happened next.
      The alloy enforcer braked like a maniac, spun sideways and struck the bridge. It exploded, went into the air for almost five seconds, and crashed by the roadside, burning.
      Kyu sped away, calmed, laughing at his experience nervously. What a tale, he thought.
     Too bad I can only ever tell my uncle...