Revved Up

Revved Up

An Inanimate TF by Loquacious Jango

The air still had a hint of ozone in it from the thunderstorm that had raged all morning. Tyler's shoes thumped off of the damp pavement as he trudged on. For the thousandth time, he cursed the fact that he hadn't brought his cellphone with him. He'd just been terrified that it would somehow go off during the ceremony. Glancing at the line of trees on the either side of the raised interstate that stretched far into the distance, the young man reflected on his long list of misfortunes.

Halfway home from a trip to his Aunt's funeral, Tyler's car had broken down in the middle of what felt like a typhoon. With no other option but to wait it out, he had spent all night curled up in the backseat of his tiny little station wagon, eventually falling asleep despite the tempest outside. By early afternoon, the storm had abated and Tyler was ready to begin the long, arduous trek to the nearest rest stop, pay phone or gas station.

"Should've left the jacket in the car" he muttered, undoing his rumpled black tie and letting it hang across his shoulders. He had considered hitchhiking his way into town and decided to keep his funeral suit on in order to look somewhat presentable to any passing drivers. But he was quickly regretting it. It was awfully humid out after the storm and besides, who exactly hitchhiked on the side of an open road in a black suit? Serial killers, that's who.

The jacket's collar was tracing a line of sweat along the back of Tyler's neck. He tugged at his collar, huffing in exasperation. What he wouldn't give for a set of wheels. Scooter, go-kart, rickshaw, Segway, anything would do, just a chance to get off of his sore and aching feet. He was so lost in reverie and self-pity that he barely noticed an incoming semi trailer from behind until it was right on top of him.

"AUUGH!" Tyler shrieked, whipping around as the massive cargo truck let out a deafening honk. Whatever had possessed the driver to wait until now to sound his horn, Tyler was close enough to reach out and TOUCH the behemoth of a vehicle. He backpedalled wildly, tripping over his feet as he attempted to make distance between himself and the rapidly moving twenty ton mass of metal. His legs no longer felt ground underneath them and he fell backwards, tumbling end over end down the muddy embankment off the side of the road.

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Tyler opened his eyes, groaning in pain. His side hurt and one of his arms was definitely bruised, but after sitting back up and doing a quick checkup of arms, legs, chest, head, neck and nose, he was satisfied that he had gotten through the fall without serious injury. Sighing with relief, Tyler got to his feet, eliciting another groan as he looked up at the steep slope that led back up to the road. No way would he be able to climb that after last night's rainfall. I'd be like trying to scale a mountain of soft-serve ice cream.

Instead he turned his attention to the wall of trees that bordered the road. He could see a clearing beyond them and beyond that, hopefully some sort of settlement or path. Hell he'd settle for a stream of running water at this point, anything he could follow back to civilization.

"I'm gonna die out here" Tyler muttered, optimism singing in his heart. He made for the tree line, weaving in between the tall birch and maple trees until surfacing on the other side, treading through the knee length grass. After a solid half hour of walking through the steadily drying mud, Tyler peered into the distance, spotting what looked like a cottage about half a mile away. Even if it was vacated, there was probably a thoroughfare that led back to the main road he could follow. Breaking out into a light jog, he closed the gap between him and the residence fairly quickly. Glad that things were finally going his way, Tyler spotted a dirt path running towards the house. Just as he reached the border of the road, one of his feet struck something heavy and with his second yelp of the day, he pitched forward into the dirt.

Tyler picked himself off of the ground once again, rubbing the foot that ached slightly more than the other and grumbling out a series of colourful profanities, figuring that if his suit wasn't already ruined, this last little tumble had been the final straw. There were bad days that made you wish you hadn't gotten out of bed, then there were rotten days that made you wish you'd never been born, then there were days like this that made you wonder why that first fish had ever decided to crawl out of the ocean.

He combed the grass with his skinned hands, searching for what had tripped him up. It had felt big, but had a bit of give to it, so it wasn't a rock. His hands closed around something wide and rubbery. Lifting it free from the tall grass, Tyler could see that it was a wheel. The thick tire and heavy spokes looked like it belonged to a bike of some sort. For something that had been lying in a field for god knows how long, it was remarkably clean. He moved his hands to the axle, holding the wheel in both arms.
"Maybe I can ride THIS back to civilization" he smirked.

The young man opened his fingers, but instead of dropping, the wheel stuck to Tyler's hands like glue. Shaking his arms as panic gripped him, Tyler attempted to dislodge the adhesive object. His fingers started to wrap back around the axle, disobeying his better judgment. Tyler gritted his teeth as his arms went stiff, going straight as boards. He backpedaled onto the road as his back straightened out like his arms, his whole torso feeling like one solid, immovable chunk.

Tyler watched in shock as his fingers and hands went from a soft, fleshy colour to a dull grey and then, shiny metallic chrome. The tint spread across his wrists and up his sleeves as he felt his arms grow thinner and smoother. He yelped, struggling to maintain balance as his shins twisted and curved upwards, toward his knees. Collapsing to all fours, Tyler could only watch his hands disappear entirely, shrinking into brackets to hold the wheel in place.

Tyler groaned, panic and fear clouding his senses as he felt a cold hard feeling in his gut. His insides were solidifying and he gasped as his organs started rearranging themselves. His heart started to expand, dropping towards the center of his gut while his stomach rose to fill it's place, growing and erupting out of his back like a shiny, metallic dome, shredding his shirt and jacket in the process. Tyler's shins were still curling upwards until they achieved a circular shape from his feet to his kneecaps. Tiny metal wires shot out of the inner perimeter of his curved legs, forming spokes as his calves shrunk and developed treads. Without warning, Tyler's legs snapped together, melding into a single back wheel, reducing his pants and boxers to similar tatters. He teetered precariously, threatening to tip over until a small kickstand flipped out of his thigh, steadying him.
"I'm-I'm- becoming a…muh- muh" He could barely get the words out, even though he knew what was happening.

Tyler's heart had taken up residence in his abdomen, and started to develop cylinders as his stomach elongated slightly. His head, having gone this long unaffected, started to change too. His mouth withdrew inwards and he could feel it shifting backwards, moving onto the top of his stomach, or what he supposed was now his fuel tank. It grew circular and his lips melded together, forming a cap. His skull started to shift, at first growing twin protrusions on either side, but quickly stretching his head out into a pair of handlebars, curving inwards slightly to accommodate the grip of a rider. His eyes fused together, growing large and developing into a headlight.

Tyler tried to center himself and breathe slowly. This strategy might have worked if he still had lungs, but regretfully, they had vanished around the same time that his intestines had shaped themselves into an exhaust pipe running along one side of his body. With that idea out the window Tyler decided to freak out again, screaming inwardly at himself.
"Goddammit, what's the matter with you, picking up trash in the field like that. This sort of thing was bound to happen." He cursed "Fuck my life, and screw that truck driver for running me off the road, and Aunt Margret for dying like that and setting me up for this mess"
Tyler mentally redacted that last comment. He wasn't about to blame his poor late aunt for his current predicament.
"To think, I could have avoided all of this just by taking my cell phone with me"

Tyler's transformation was almost complete. The last of his humanity disappeared beneath gleaming chrome and stainless steel as his back expanded into a wide, comfy leather seat, big enough for two.

The new motorcycle sat on the dirt road, grumbling to itself and cursing the heavens for the umpteenth time that day. He scanned the horizon, hoping that the owner of the cottage would return and find him like this. Maybe they could even change him back, if they knew anything about that wheel in the first place.

The strangest part was the sensations. Tyler knew he was just metal and rubber now, but he could still feel the gravel underneath his tires, still hear the slight whistle of wind over the grass and still see the wide, open road.
That road, it seemed to stretch on forever into the distance… There was something so…alluring about it. All thoughts of restoration fled Tyler's mind. He had to know first. He had to see if he could.

Tyler's front wheel swiveled in place, turning away from the cottage and towards the unknown. There was just too much to see out there to remain in one spot. He felt a warm, almost sensual vibration deep within his midsection as his engine revved to life. If he still had a face, he would be grinning. He revved again and then, spurred into motion. Rocketing foreword, Tyler sped off across the path. Within minutes, he had passed back through the tree line and had returned from his detour to the inviting pavement of the open road.
"If I'm gonna keep this up, I'm probably gonna need some gas" Tyler thought. He seamlessly turned onto the interstate, gaining speed with every second. It was heaven, Hearing the rattle of his engine and feeling it in his belly. Feeling the pavement whisk by underneath him and the fresh air whistling over his handlebars, it was like flying.

Under an hour, Tyler could make out the city limits. He had been silently humming "Wild Thing" to himself for the past five minutes. With any luck, he would find someone understanding enough to pay for some gasoline. If they wanted something in return, he might even become their vehicle. He was sure that a sentient motorbike would be a big hit with the ladies. Maybe Tyler could even hook up with one of those biker chicks.

An infinite number of possibilities whirled through the classic motorcycle's head. That was what the open road was. It was Potential. It was Freedom. For the first time in a long time, Tyler was happy.