Bio: Katyusha is the youngest of the Morozov sisters and the Driver of NWR'S #5, James the Red Engine. From her blackish-blonde hair to her black makeup, Katyusha is a rebel at heart, but will follow the rules if it means getting the job done. She is also good with spray-paint, and is often the one to touch up James' paintwork from any scrapes and scratches it gets.
Trivia: Katyusha is named after a Russian Ye class Steam engine, currently housed in the Russian Railway Museum in Moscow.
When james the red engine first arrived, he was L&YR black.
That very same day, his black ass nearly got sent to the shadow realm due to his wood catching fire.
When he returned from the works, he was painted in the new experimental nwr red with black stripes on the side of his cab and gold boiler bands, but no lining on his splashers.
After james took the express when gordon got yeeted around on thr loop line sir Charles added lining to James's splashes, (for my headcannon).
After james slams into some tar tankers he gets taken to the works by toby and percy where, alongside toby, james was panted in the Skarlowey livery
OK, so why is james in Skarlowey red, well, I think the Unlucky Tug's "Sodor Debunked" put it best, james saw the SKR engine's liveries and asked to be painted in that color.
Side note: while james and toby were being repainted they both gained a mutual respect for each other. James's skr livery also persuaded people to take the nwr to go and ride the skr.
Hey so I powered through my writer's block and did this.
It's not based on anything, is very long, and barely features any of Sodor's trains, but I feel like it fleshes out the world around the rails of Sodor.
Chelsea is a character that I already like, just from having written her. She's loosely based on a character from a recent ERS volume, but because SiF's storytelling is... not always stellar, I changed almost everything about her in order to make a better character. I hope you guys like this story and the characters in it too.
Also, at this point you're going to have to have at least a passing familiarity with my other works, because some references just will not make sense otherwise.
---------------------------------------------
Tidmouth - Present Day. Tuesday.
Stephen Hatt said nothing as the mangled remains of his Audi were lifted onto the back of a flatbed lorry. He remained silent as the lorry driver secured the wreckage to the back, before driving away.
Once the HGV was well and truly out of sight, he slowly turned around.
Everyone in range flinched, hoping that they were not the target of the Evil Eye.
Silence reigned supreme. Only the idiotic or the egotistical would think that breaking it was a good idea.
.
.
.
"In my defense," James said slowly, staring at the 4 interlocked rings of the Audi badge hanging from his lamp iron, as though doing so would make it vanish, and stop him from being axle-deep in the staff car park. "But those buffers are definitely dry-rotted. They wouldn't have stopped anything, really. It was just a matter of time, sir."
---
The next day. Wednesday.
"What time is the car service picking you up?" Helen, his wife, asked as the butler laid out breakfast.
"A quarter to seven," He replied as he forewent the marmalade and had his toast dry. "They're sending a Range Rover, which should be different." His Audi was a saloon, as were the last three cars he'd owned prior. In fact, the only Land Rover he could remember being in was Ivo Hugh's old Defender; the old CMO used it like a quad-bike, and sent it bouncing up and down the Skarloey Railway for Permanent Way work - not something Stephen's backside had enjoyed the one time he'd tagged along!
"Hm," Helen said, breaking him out of painful memories of the insufficient padding in Ivo's Defender. "They should be here any minute then. You'd best be ready."
Checking his watch, Stephen discovered that he was running behind schedule. Finishing his toast before kissing his wife goodbye, he walked outside, making it more than a few steps before remembering that his Audi wasn't in the driveway.
A gloss black Range Rover was though. A long wheelbase model, it shone in the lights of his house, and he could almost see his reflection in the paint. The front license plate still had the EU flag on it, meaning that it was at least a few years old.
"Good morning sir!" The car said cheerfully. "I'm Chelsea. I'll be your driver for the week."
Stephen was still smarting over the loss of his Audi, and his disposition was perhaps not as sunny as usual. "Good morning. The station, if you please."
"Yes, sir!" Was all the car said as Stephen opened the rear door. Before he could even get in, his cell phone rang.
"Hatt, state your - yes, what is it?"
It was Malcolm, the new Tidmouth harbourmaster. The man was chatty at all hours of the day, and it took many minutes for Stephen to finesse the required information out of the man. As such, he didn't pay any attention as he got into the car and was promptly driven towards town.
"Change of plans," he said towards the front of the car. "We must go to the Docks first."
"Right away." Stephen was still engrossed in his phone - it wasn't even dawn yet and something was already gone wrong at the docks - it seemed like some of the private owner wagons were in worse shape than he'd been led to believe, if the photos Malcolm had sent were any indication.
It was only after the Range Rover made a turn he wasn't expecting that he actually looked up. He was surprised that they were passing the Asda on Tidmouth high street. "This isn't the harbor road?" He said more out of confusion than anything else.
"No sir," Came the Range Rover's voice. "Too much traffic. Figure they'll let you in through the HGV entrance around the back."
They would, and Stephen almost returned to his work when suddenly realized something that had been tickling at the back of his mind since he got into the Range Rover.
"Do... you not have a driver?" He asked slowly, looking at the driver's seat intently. It was almost a pointless question, as the seat - on the wrong side of the car to boot - was empty.
"What?" It almost sounded like Chelsea was audible through the speakers in the doors. "Oh. Yes! I'm surprised you hadn't noticed already; you didn't say anything when you got in!"
"I suppose I didn't notice." He said quietly as the steering wheel spun on its own.
He wanted to question further - he really did - but at that moment they rolled up to the security gate at the port's HGV entrance. The rear window rolled down without his pressing the button, and the guard at the gate raised the gate as soon as he saw Stephen. "Right that way Mr. Hatt, jus' follow the commotion."
"Oh, that's not good." Stephen muttered to himself as Chelsea motored across the port.
It wasn't. With the window rolled down, he could already hear shouting coming from near the base of a crane. Pulling up to the calamity, he could see Salty, Marina, a group of workmen, and even several trucks all glaring at a sharp-dressed man who was yelling severely at Malcom the Harbourmaster. Behind them, a pair of open wagons were in a shambles - their frames bent almost in half from what did not appear to be a very heavy load. These were private owner wagons, and reading the name of said owner made Stephen pinch his nose between his fingers.
"-and it will be a cold day before this railway manages to pull one over on Simon Charles Ruffey the Third!" the man shouted for all to hear.
Stephen groaned to himself as he got out of Chelsea. "Simon, it is cold, your wagons are in their usual state of disrepair, and I will not have you speaking to my staff in that way..." He began, not for the first time.
---
Later
The business at the port had taken entirely too long (damn you, Ruffey, you incorrigible skinflint), and it was well into the mid-morning before Chelsea pulled up in front of the station in Tidmouth.
"My parking spot is there, if you need it" Stephen said as he climbed out of Chelsea's rear seat. "I must leave for a lunch meeting at noon, so... occupy yourself until then."
"No problem sir," The Range Rover replied. "I'll be waiting for you."
Stephen watched as the Range Rover drove away, not to his parking spot, but out onto the street and into town.
I wonder where she's going? He thought to himself before turning back to the station, grimacing to himself as he looked at the empty spot next to the doors labelled "RESERVED FOR S. HATT". To add insult to injury, some bright spark had taken the Audi badge from James' bufferbeam and placed it atop the signpost.
My father would never put up with this... He thought to himself as he pocketed the Audi badge and went inside the building.
----
Lunch
True to her word, Chelsea was waiting for him at noon. Strangely, she was soaking wet, despite the ground around her being dry.
"Did it rain?" Stephen asked as he got in.
"The dryer at the carwash was broken." She said, somewhat snappishly, as they set off. "I didn't have time for them to do a hand-dry, ugh. I hope this is from the spot-free cycle..."
Stephen said nothing as he went through his notes for the meeting, but silently remembered that Chelsea had been polished to a mirror finish when she'd left!
---
That Night
Stephen got home at a quarter past six, Helen greeting him at the door. "Get changed - we've dinner at seven."
In what felt like no time at all to him (Helen still said he took too long in the shower), they were out of the house again, first at the dinner (it was a new "Peruvian-Japanese Fusion" restaurant in Wellsworth that was surprisingly good, considering that none of those nouns should reasonably go together), and then on a "walk down the high street" that very quickly turned into a trip to Marks & Spencer's. By the time they got back to the car, they were laden down with bags.
"Ugh," Helen looked at her hand as she deposited the shopping in the boot of her car. It was covered in grime, transferred from the boot lid. "This is filthy. We must go through the car wash on our way home."
There was a car wash attached to the petrol station nearest to their house, and Stephen snorted slightly as he noticed a very familiar looking Range Rover pull in behind them in the queue for the wash.
"What's so funny?" Helen asked.
"I think James may have met his match. That Range Rover behind us is from the car service - she just got a wash this afternoon!"
----
The Next Day. Thursday.
One advantage of having a car waiting for him, Stephen noted, was the ability to have her meet him elsewhere - a really useful trick when one ran a railway, and could reasonably be expected to hop on a train across the Island at a moment's notice.
Meet me at Brendam Station in 45 minutes he sent in a text message around eleven o'clock - he'd been assured by the hire car company that she could receive and send phone calls and text messages, although he'd no idea how.
Will do. 🚙 Was the reply.
He stared at the phone for a moment, struck by the notion that he was truly living in the future - he could get text messages from a car - before returning to the matter at hand.
"Now then," He said to Bill and Ben, both of whom looked like they'd rather be anywhere else. "I'm sure that I don't need to tell you exactly how much damage, confusion, and delay has been caused by your foolishness."
-
The next stop after that was a meeting all the way in the middle of the Island, at the Culdee Fell Railway. It took some time to get there, and quite a lot less time to finish.
"All right sir?" Chelsea asked as Stephen clambered back in, his brows furrowed in irritation.
"That meeting could have been a conference call or an email." He groused. "We did not need to burn all that petrol or spend all that time coming out here."
"Sorry sir."
"Nothing to be done for it. You got me here early, which is a miracle considering these roads."
"I know a lot of shortcuts!" She said as they pulled onto the road leading out of Peel Godred. On the railroad tracks nearby, Abbey rattled by with a goods train.
"That you do." He said, watching the train disappear into the distance out of habit. "I have been meaning to ask, how did you get... to where you are now? I've never heard of a car driving itself before - well, not except those new electric ones."
"Not much to it really," She said, turning off the main road and heading down a farm lane that Stephen vaguely knew would take them around the congested roads of downtown Peel Godred. "Apparently us talking cars are a bit of a slow seller nowadays, especially abroad, which is where I was going."
"Really?"
"Oh yes. I was actually supposed to go to China, but they knew I wouldn't sell so I just never got sent over. Does mean I can speak Mandarin though."
"Really?"
"是的。我精通它。"
"I'm going to assume that means something?"
"Ha! Yes, I said that I'm fluent in it." She laughed as the farm lane curved around a rise in the terrain. This seemed like the routing of the old Mid-Sodor Railway, and Stephen idly wondered what some of the Skarloey Railway's engines would think about their old line being a farm lane.
Undoubtedly it would not suit his grace.
"-but anyways," Chelsea continued. "When they couldn't sell me abroad they tried to sell me here, but that didn't work either because I'm too "environmentally unfriendly" or something like that. So I did some translation work for them at the factory until I decided I wanted to do something else."
"And that something else was this?"
"Not really, but it's an job, innit?"
"A job? You get wages?"
"'Course I do! My boss says that paying me is cheaper than buying a car and hiring a driver. And it isn't bad work really - keeps me in fuel, covers my insurance, pays my car wash tab, and keeps a roof over my paint. Not much else is there to need really? Well, other than my racing license."
"Racing license?"
"Oh yeah! I decided that I needed a hobby, so I do autocross and gymkhana in my spare time. Everything is regulated now, so I need a license if I want to get into the bigger matches. Last year I even managed to get into the regional championships on the Isle of Man, which was fun."
"Really?" Stephen leaned forward in his seat. "I've never heard of gymkhana, was it? What is it?"
"Oh, well, it's this new sport out of America - it's like a cross between drifting and autocross, with a few stunts mixed in too..."
-
Chelsea got most of the way through an explanation of her sporting hobby until Stephen had to take a phone call, which kept him occupied until they got almost through Arlesdale. Here, the Arlesdale railway paralleled the road between Arlesdale and Marthwaite for a short while as both routes ran into Marthwaite, before the tracks peeled off across the river Arle, while the road went into town before making the same crossing at Bridge Street.
The Arlesdale Railway had a very small track gauge, and so the trains there usually couldn't go as fast as cars on the road could. However, on this day there was resurfacing work going on, and the road was filled with stationary vehicles, queuing up to be let through the construction zone.
The engines of the Arlesdale for mostly gracious about this, whistling commiserations to the locals and their cars as they steamed by.
Unfortunately, Mike was not one of those engines. He thought it was all a great joke, and had great fun taunting the motorists as he rolled by with a train of ballast wagons.
"Look at me! Not stuck in traffic, am I? Look! I'm just flying by! I'll make my deliveries on time and ahead of schedule!" He crowed to the lorries who were sitting and stewing in the midday traffic.
Many of the replies he got are not suitable for print, and simply emboldened him. As he got closer to the head of the line, he stopped making individual boasts, and instead began teasing the traffic generally, blowing his whistle loudly, whooshing steam, and generally ruining any last vestiges of peace that may have existed.
Then there was trouble.
George the Steam Roller still earned his keep maintaining the Island's road network, and was working away on the resurfacing project as Mike chortled past.
"Ah, go get an ASBO, you undersized social delinquent!" He shouted at the nuisance, drawing a squawk of mocking laughter from Mike.
"I didn't know that you could pronounce that many syllables!" He hooted rudely.
George growled, and blew his whistle back at the miniature annoyance. "I'll syllable you, ya runt!"
PEEEEP PEEEP PEEEEEEEEE-BANG! WOOOOOOOOSH
George couldn't have known, but when his driver had last removed his whistle for polishing, he hadn't screwed it back in properly. As George had whistled at things, usually out of annoyance, the whistle had slowly but surely come undone from its threads until finally it let go, shooting straight up and smashing into the metal awning that George's driver had put over his boiler with a tremendous BANG!
Punching a hole through the awning, the whistle continued up into the air on a jet of superheated steam that poured from the socket where George's whistle had been. It now sounded like a catastrophic industrial accident rather than a whistle, and it went on for several long moments before George's driver realized that he was still holding the whistle cord.
The effects of this were calamitous: men scrambled for cover, machines ground to a halt, cars swerved to avoid them, and a tipper lorry dumped his load of dirt in surprise, sending a cloud of dust and grit flying. Just then, a gust of wind sent it billowing over the line of cars, vans, and lorries waiting to pass by. To add insult to injury, a passing flock of birds "relieved themselves" out of fright... all over the same line of cars!
Mike and his driver had seen everything, and they were almost in tears of laughter as they vanished into the distance as fast as was possible!
Unnoticed in all the chaos, George's whistle landed in the middle of the road with a thunk!, just missing the front bumper of an absolutely, astoundingly, apocalyptically upset Range Rover that was three cars from the front of the line. A moment later, the formerly-spotless rear door swung open, and a stout gentleman emerged. He was already dialing a number on his mobile phone as he stalked around to the front of the car. Producing a pair of driving gloves from the pocket of his coat, he donned them before plucking the still-hot steam whistle from the pavement.
The phone call connected, and he spoke curtly as he inpsected the whistle with no small amount of disdain. "Your railway is going to receive many complaints, probably within the hour. Mine will be delivered in person."
He disconnected the call without fanfare, and then pocketed the whistle, frowning when an unexpected clink emerged from his pocket. Removing his hand from the pocket revealed a broken and bent Audi logo.
The stout gentleman's frown deepened.
-
Arlesburgh West Station - Later
Mike was still laughing about it when he rolled into the station at the end of the line. The laughter only increased when he spied a dirt-coated Range Rover in the station carpark. The car looked furious under the layers of bird dirt and real dirt, and revved her engine at him in a manner that she probably thought was threatening, but Mike found merely hilarious.
His driver thought so too. "You know, when I hear a rumor, I always say that 'a little birdy told me'." he said, setting up a bad joke
"Yeah?"
"So what in the bloomin' 'eck did she hear?" He said, a smug look on his face.
It took Mike a moment to get the joke, but once it landed, he was roaring with laughter, much to the bird-muck crusted Range Rover's displeasure.
Then the Range Rover's doors opened, and out stepped the Small Controller and the Fat Controller.
The laughter stopped immediately, and both Mike and his driver went white as sheets!
------
Tidmouth, later still
Chelsea was visibly uncomfortable with all the dirt on her, and when Stephen gently suggested that she find a car wash, she made a bee-line for the local Range Rover dealer. The dealership was a large one, that also sold Jaguars and Lotuses. Chelsea was apparently a regular here, and when the detailing staff saw her pull in, they visibly blanched before setting to work with professional haste.
"It might be a while, sir." One of the cleaners said, and he showed Stephen to the showroom before returning to the wash/detail bay with more rags and soaps.
Give James a run for his money indeed... he thought to himself as he observed the cars in the showroom.
A bright orange Lotus sat off in one corner behind a velvet rope. It was tiny, and so low to the ground that just getting into the damn thing would probably throw out his back.
Clearly not. He thought, before looking around more.
There were two Jaguars in the showroom, one a rather smart looking new XF Estate with a SOLD sign hanging from the rearview mirror, and the other a vintage XJS coupe that looked to be almost as old as his son Richard. Unlike the Lotus, these two cars could talk, and were quietly bickering about something.
Stephen frowned, and looked elsewhere in the building. Even if the last few hours hadn't considerably cooled his opinions on owning anything that could speak, he'd owned a (non-sentient) Jaguar from that era once before. It had spent more time being serviced than it had being driven, and it was not an experience he wished to endure again.
Finally, his gaze made its way over to the Land Rover side of the dealership, and settled on a very smart looking Defender. It was quite the opposite of any car that he'd owned before, with numerous off-road accessories, ranging from a ladder built into the bodywork to a giant snorkel. A steel cargo tray sat on the roof, giving the whole vehicle a very adventurous feel. It also notably wasn't a living machine, which was a point in its favour over the Jaguars.
"Found something you like?" Stephen was brought out of his thoughts by a sleazy-looking man in an ill-fitting suit. "I can get the keys if you wanna take 'er for a spin..."
-
One excruciating test drive later
Perhaps I merely don't like anyone talking to me... Stephen thought venomously as he walked back into the dealership again.
The Land Rover had been a fine vehicle, probably, but the salesman's pushy attitude and total lack of dignity or self-respect had driven Stephen to heights of madness that usually only his engines could achieve, completely turning him off of the Defender in the process.
Inside the detail bay, Chelsea was currently being toweled dry, her paint once again sparkling in the lights of the building.
"Sorry that took so long, sir," She began. "It's just that, well, I can't stand-"
"I understand completely." Stephen held up his hand to cut her off, before turning to the head cleaner. "Please see that the bill for all this is sent to the North Western Railway."
"Oh, sir, you don't have to-"
"In this case, I feel as though I do." He smiled kindly. "Besides, at this point I am willing to do anything that will get us out of here as quickly as possible."
The Rover's smile strained a little. "They didn't try to sell you something, did they?"
Stephen's kind smile turned into a peeved grimace, and Chelsea sighed deeply. "Oh no. Which one was it? Was it that old XJ? He can barely start, the poor thing."
"Actually, it was one of the new-"
"Mister Hatt!" The salesman barged into the detailing bay like a bull in a china shop. "I saw that you came in a 'Rover, so I pulled up one o' the newest ones. Y'know, in case y'wanna trade in the old one? Give you a right good price on it too."
Chelsea bristled at this, and started her motor with a supercharged snarl. "I am not for sale!" She snapped, unlocking her rear doors for Stephen. "Mister Hatt, I do believe we are late."
Stephen smiled, perhaps a touch too viciously, at how the salesman recoiled. "Quite. Let us depart."
Little more was said as Chelsea backed out of the detail bay and into the dealership's forecourt. The Range Rover that the salesman had brought out was idling in front of the dealership, and Chelsea gave it a good look, before stopping next to it.
"They've got some nerve trying to sell this bill of goods." She grumbled as she stared at the new car more critically.
"What's that?" Stephen asked, rolling down the window to look at the car. Nothing seemed amiss to him.
"Paint's wrong." She said firmly. "There's a big discolouration down the side of the door - both of them actually, blimey."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that they pro'lly scraped it against something in transit from Solihull and had to repaint the door. S'not bad or anything but they should disclose that, and I don't think they did."
Looking more closely, Stephen could see that she was right. If he turned his head just right, the midday sun glinted off of the middle of the car's doors differently than the rest of the vehicle.
It was at this point that the salesman came back out again. "So, whaddya think?" He said smarmily, leaning against the new Range Rover without caring if he scratched or smudged the paint.
"Has it been repainted?" Stephen asked, playing the fool.
"What?" The man retorted. "This? It's brand new!"
It was at that point that he rapped his knuckles on the door of the car, presumably to show how "new" it was. However, instead of the expected metallic noise, there was a rather flat thonk as his hand made contact with the discoloured spot on the door.
The man's smile suddenly became a lot more fixed, and his eyes widened. "Eh heh, well, you see, uh..."
"That sounds a lot like body filler, doesn't it?" Chelsea said, her voice incredulous. "What did you pillocks do?"
"I... um... uh, well-" The man stammered, sweat beading on his forehead.
"I think I have seen enough." Stephen said, rolling up the rear window and cutting off the salesman's hopeless stammering. "Shall we go?"
Chelsea said nothing, and rolled away from the dealership in a huff.
--
They arrived at Tidmouth station a short while later.
"I am sorry about all this, sir." Chelsea said, a little embarrassed by the last hour.
"It really is not your fault," Stephen assured her. "I didn't miss anything that can't be re-scheduled - after all, it is my railway! Much like the royal family, I am always on time, everyone else is merely early."
The Range Rover laughed at that, and drove off to find a parking spot.
Stephen made it almost all the way to his office before someone spoke to him.
"Where've you been?" Richard asked, poking his head out of his office door. "It doesn't take that long to ride the Arlesdale, let alone "discipline" them."
"I made a stop at the Range Rover dealership."
"Oh! Find anything you like?"
"The only one that impressed me is not for sale. Everything else was not worth considering."
"You should buy a Tesla!" Came a voice from down the hall, causing Stephen to roll his eyes hugely. Calls to 'buy a Tesla' had started almost before the wreckage of his Audi had been cleaned up, and at this point he knew they were just doing it to annoy him.
"Remind me why I put up with such insolence?" He asked, just loud enough for the office gossips to "overhear".
"Because you hand-picked everyone in this office, including me?" Richard asked innocently. "Which means that you clearly enjoy this on some level?"
Stephen rolled his eyes, and closed Richard's office door in his face before continuing down the hall.
-----------
The next day. Friday.
Mercifully, nothing of any note happened all morning. For the first time since Monday, Stephen was able to have a full and productive set of meetings, phone calls, and business emails without any ridiculous treks across the island, the destruction of personal property, or the unexpected need to discipline an engine.
It was almost peaceful.
Quite naturally, this wasn't allowed to stand, and calamity ensued around lunch.
Tidmouth station had a small parking lot directly in front of the station for Passengers (and Stephen - that was one luxury he had no qualms about taking), while the staff parking lot was located by the sheds on the other side of the yard. There was a private roadway that led out of the customer carpark, across the tracks that led into the sheds, and into the staff carpark.
The private road was protected by a gate in the station carpark, and as Stephen and Richard went outside to meet Chelsea, they noticed a small crowd of NWR employees gathering around the gate.
"What are they doing?" Richard asked to no one in particular.
"Someone bought a Tesla," The Range Rover explained in a most unimpressed manner. "and they're trying out that silly 'summon' feature it has."
"Summon?" Stephen wasn't sure what that meant.
"It can drive itself." Richard explained. "Well, sort of - Tesla says it can. If you park the car and leave it, you can make it drive out of the parking space and come to you, even if you're across the carpark."
Chelsea rolled her eyes. "Personally I don't think it's that impressive. You can summon me from across town!"
"I did know they could drive themselves, although I didn't know you could make one come to you. They parked it all the way down there?" Stephen could see a small white saloon car backing out of a parking space by the engine shed.
"Oh yes." Richard said, watching with interest as the car began rolling forward at a walking pace. "I think it's almost at the end of the range, but it should be fine."
Then there was a few moments of silence, ended by simultaneous cries of dismay and laughter from the group by the gate.
"Oh, it's crashed."
"I told you that pothole needed to be filled!"
"It didn't hit a pothole! It tried to go around the pothole and drove itself onto the bleeding tracks!"
SNAP "James! The truck is getting away!" "What? Again? Oh blast these coupling chains! I barely bumped it!"
"That seems like a poor choice on its part. Why did it do that?"
"I don't know. Maybe it thought it could make it."
"Pah! I've got an adjustable-height air suspension and even I couldn't make it across a set of rails like that. It's just a dumb computer that got too big for its bumpers."
"Quick! Stop it from getting onto the main line!" "How?!" "Use the shunter's pole! Set the brakes!" CLANG BANG THUNK "Too late! Throw the switch and send it into a siding!" "Which siding?" "ANY SIDING!"
"How do they get it off?"
"I think they can back it up."
"Not a chance! The back wheels are off the ground. Unless he wants to take the front bumper off."
"That's not a siding!" "Peep peep! Look out!" "Oh no! Where did that car come from?!"
"Richard, if this causes any confusion or delay..."
"I'll handle it, don't- why are they all pointing... oh you must be joking."
BANG! CRUNCH! SCREECH!
"My Car!"
--
Fortunately nobody was hurt, however the Tesla was a total write-off.
It took some time to organize the cleanup, but eventually James was able to haul the mostly-undamaged truck back to the station, while a flatbed lorry came to collect the Tesla.
"Twice in a week? New record for ya, killer." Siobhan had come out to investigate the commotion, and it took no time at all for her to begin poking fun at James.
"This wasn't my fault!" James was incensed. "That chain was barely holding on to begin with!"
"I'm sure..." Stephen was deeply unimpressed about the entire situation, but James at least seemed genuine about his innocence.
"Alright, easy does it... easy..." *winching noises* POP "Hey - where's tha' smoke coming from?"
So was the truck, unusually enough. "Now don' you go givin the kettle all the credit for this! Tha' chain's been weak fer months, but does anyone ever listen to auld Ramsey? Nooooo! It's always 'be quiet you', and 'come along now'! Nobody ever believes me, they don't."
"Cripes! Tha's the battery!" POP POP "What's happening? What does that mean?" "It means unhook me!" POP POP FWOOSH
He paused for a moment, now aware that man, woman, and engine were all staring at him. "What? 'e din't cause all the commotion! I wan' my name attach'd to all this; it'll go o'er great wit' the lads!"
"Thermal runaway! GET CLEAR!" Everyone turned to look at the scene of the accident. The flatbed lorry was backing away from the scene as fast as he could, while Richard and the workmen scattered in all directions.
It was easy to see why. Thick black smoke was billowing out from underneath the Tesla, and flames were already licking their way around the rear bumper and up the boot lid.
"Goodness!" James exclaimed, watching the smoke rise into the air. "What do we do now?"
"Call the fire brigade-"
"An' get everyone the fook outta 'ere!"
Stephen, Siobhan, and James' crew all scattered, running to evacuate the area and coordinate the emergency procedures, leaving James and Ramsey all alone.
The old truck watched the commotion with great interest. "Ha ha! T'is is great! the lads'll love this! Oi moight owe ya one, Red!"
James, for his part, merely gulped, and hoped that the Fat Controller would remember that this wasn't his fault!
----------
Later....
It took four hours for the Tidmouth Fire Brigade to extinguish the car, and even then that wasn't a sure thing.
"If I'm being perfectly honest with you," The Chief Fire Officer said to Stephen as the firemen began to pack up some of the hoses. "It may well start burning again. These new electric cars can burn on and off for days when new parts of the battery combust."
"How do you stop that?"
"Can't, not really. You've got to immerse it in water for days before the thing gets saturated to the point where it'll become safe. That's about the only way to be sure."
"Really?"
"Oh yes. We've been planning for this for some time. We've been very fortunate that this hasn't happened to us before, but we have a plan." The man leaned in conspiratorially, keen to share his knowledge. "Forgive me if it sounds a touch unprofessional, but we've got skip - real big one, forty feet long - and we're going to fill it with water and put the car in there."
Stephen felt overwhelmed, and once the remains of the Tesla were carted away, (under the watchful eyes of at least four fire engines) he returned to the car park, where some of his employees, senior staff, and Chelsea were waiting for him.
"Is it time ta go 'ome now?" Siobhan asked sarcastically, having laid down on the tarmac next to Chelsea.
A general moan of agreement from the rest of the staff showed that many of them were more serious than she'd been. The fire had cut off the sheds from the main line, and the reduced number of available engines had forced trains to be cancelled, delayed, or combined. Everyone was thankful that the fire was now extinguished before the evening peak, and already engines could be heard rolling past the charred set of rails on an undamaged track.
Checking his watch, Stephen noted that it was well past shift change. Everyone was probably exhausted. "All right. Everyone check in with this shift and then go home. We've all had quite enough excitement for the day."
Everyone might have been tired, but they still managed to vanish with an almost magical speed, and it was soon just Stephen, Richard, Siobhan, and Chelsea left.
"I'm surprised you didn't tear out of here as well. " Stephen addressed his head of locomotive operations, who hadn't moved from her supine position. "No one at home?"
"Eh." She grunted, stretching out on the asphalt. "Deccie's in Birmingham till Tuesday, an' the kid's're at uni. I'm officially an empty nester now."
"It does take some getting used to," Stephen said encouragingly.
"How would you know?" Richard asked, who had gone past 'stressed' and had instead become sarcastic. "I see you more than mum does!"
That brought a laugh from Siobhan, while Chelsea looked like she didn't quite get the joke. Stephen let the joke hang in the air for a moment before declaring with a straight face: "Remember who signs your paychecks..."
That brought the laughter to a halt, and Stephen managed to keep his composure for a long minute before he smiled broadly. "Right! We've all been here for quite long enough - shall we get something to eat? My treat?"
"You had me going there for a second." Siobhan deadpanned as she stood up. "Do ye need me to drive too? For my paycheck?"
"If you'd be so inclined to!" Richard chirped as he opened Chelsea's passenger door. "Awfully generous of you."
Siobhan and Stephen exchanged a glance that spoke volumes, before Stephen opened the rear door.
"Did ye notice that she's Euro-spec?" Siobhan asked as she walked around to Chelsea's actual passenger door and got in. "That means yer drivin'!"
Richard, to his credit, laughed when he realized that he'd actually gotten into the driver's seat, but was confused as he felt around the steering column. "There's no keys?"
Then the seat started moving back. In a moment, his feet could no longer reach the pedals, and the wheel was out of reach. "What?"
"Sorry Sir, Ma'am," Chelsea said apologetically. "But I was actually built for the Chinese market, and I don't let other people drive."
With that, her motor started, she shifted into reverse and backed out of the parking space. "Where to, sir?"
"Hmmm... There's that Italian restaurant across town. What is it called?" At this point in the week, Stephen was unphased, and began poking at his phone to figure out which restaurant to go to.
Up front, Richard and Siobhan stared in pale-faced terror as Chelsea's steering wheel spun on its own and she pulled into rush-hour traffic.
"I think I know which place it is. Is it... uh Dalla fattoria alla tavola?"
"That's it." Stephen snapped his fingers as he recalled the name. "They have a wonderful Lasagna."
There was a beep from the infotainment system, and tiny squeaks emerged from both front seat passengers as the GPS system entered the name of the restaurant and plotted a route across Tidmouth with no one pushing any buttons.
"Tornado is bad enough," Siobhan whispered. "But this is fookin' worse!"
----
Saturday
It was a practically sedate ten in the morning when Chelsea picked up Stephen. It was a sunny day, and she had the windows down. "You don't have to work today, do you sir?"
He chuckled. "Oh no. This is purely personal. You see, I need a new car, and if I'm honest, nothing I have seen so far has impressed me."
"I'm sorry about that," she interjected, keenly remembering the Range Rover dealership.
"Such things happen," Stephen said. "Therefore my plan for the day is to not come back without a car of some sort."
"All right," She said, already pulling up a list in her GPS. "Where to first?"
----
The Audi Dealership - Haltraugh
"Six months?" Stephen couldn't quite believe it.
"Eyup." Said the sales manager. "What's on the floor is what we've got. Everything else is on factory backorder because of the chip shortage."
Stephen surveyed the sales floor. Three subcompact city cars and a tiny convertible coupe were all that he could see.
----
The Ford Dealership - Tidmouth
"I see..." Stephen trailed off as he stared at the ugly-green painted Mondeo. "And these are all you have?"
"All we make." The salesman said. "If you want something bigger, well we've got the Transit, Kuga and the Ranger, but if you want a luxury option? This is it."
"When you say 'this is it...'"
"This one." The salesman clarified. "We've got others but they're not nearly as well equipped."
----
The Peugeot Dealership - Knapford
"Ugh!" A salesman said, looking at Chelsea with disgust as Stephen walked in through a side entrance. "Who's got the "I'm a posh wanker"-mobile?"
Stephen turned around and left without a word.
----
The Vauxhall Dealership - Killdane
The Vauxhall Dealer had many cars, much to Stephen's relief.
"Hello!"
Called twenty-seven cars in unison.
"no." He said to Chelsea.
"agreed."
-----
The Toyota Dealership - Killdane
"They want a ten thousand pound markup on this?" Chelsea was agog. "It's a Corolla!"
-----
The Mercedes-Benz Dealership - Vicarstown
"Well," The salesman began. "We do have one model in stock that I feel you'd enjoy."
He led Stephen over to a very futuristic looking estate car. "This is our new EQS. Brand new for this model year. I'd list all the features but we'd be here all day - better to know that the only thing it can't do is make you breakfast, and even then you can probably run the cooker off of it!"
"Really?" Stephen asked, now quite interested indeed. "How does it do that?"
"Oh, well, it's electric, so all you've got to do is-"
"Electric, you say?" Stephen asked, seeing images of a burning Tesla in his mind's eye."
-----
The BMW Dealership - Vicarstown
"Talk about a face that only a mother could love!" Chelsea sniffed as they looked over the row of saloons and estate cars. Each car had a large front grille, the appearance of which was... unfortunate.
"At this point I am willing to take that chance..." Stephen said grimly. It was almost three in the afternoon, and he hadn't been able to find anything.
"Do you really want to come out each morning and look at that?"
"If I must." Stephen sighed. It was a dreadful looking car, but maybe it drove better than it looked...
-
"Which gear is it in?" Stephen asked, looking at the peculiar shift lever. It had returned to a neutral position after he'd moved it, and he now had no idea which gear he was actually in. There was also a small wheel next to it, the purpose of which was unclear.
"Park is the button on the side," The salesman said. "Push it forward for reverse, and pull it back for drive."
"Forward to go back, backwards for forwards, and push a button for park." This would take some getting used to. "What does that wheel do?"
"That controls the iDrive system."
"iDrive?"
"It's the radio, sat nav, phone, bluetooth, car settings, the lot - you control it all from here." The salesman tapped the top of the wheel, which somehow turned the radio on and set it to BBC Radio 4.
"Riiiight." Stephen tried not to think about that as he pulled the shifter into what he thought was Drive, and instead sent the car rolling backwards.
"It's an easy mistake for first-timers." The salesman said apologetically.
After that false start, the test drive had gone well, or at least it had, until they got back to the dealership.
beepbeepbeepbeepbeep
"What is that beeping sound?" Stephen asked the salesman as he drove the 7-Series through the the cramped dealership lot. "Have you got your seatbelt on?"
beepbeepbeepbeepbeep
"'s the collision avoidance system." The man said. "It doesn't like that you're driving so close to the parked cars." He unbuckled his seatbelt, and a separate dinging sound began to play in the cabin. "That's the seatbelt chime."
"Ah, it think's it's gonna crash into them probably." The man continued. "Don' worry though, it'll stop itself long before - augh!"
dingdingbeepdingbeepbeebeepbeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!
The beeping had grown in pitch dramatically as they approached a larger SUV that was parked slightly further out than the rest. The car evidently thought that it was going to crash, and so jammed on its brakes hard, throwing Stephen against the seatbelt and sending the unbelted salesman slamming into the dashboard nose-first!
-
"How did it go?" Chelsea asked him as he sat down.
"Modern cars have too much technology..." Stephen muttered darkly as he rubbed his shoulder.
-------
The Jeep Dealership - Peel Godred
Neither Stephen nor Chelsea had ever been to this dealership before - located on the far side of Peel Godred, it was buried in the foothills of Culdee Fell, and was almost closer to the Village of Cregwir. In the middle distance, smoke plumes from trains on the Mountain Railway could be seen easily.
The dealership building itself was equipped with a waiting area large enough for Chelsea to drive inside, and she was invited to do so by the salesman, who greeted both her and Stephen warmly.
This was not entirely unusual, except that the salesman was American, and not actually a salesman at all, but was instead an older-model Jeep Grand Cherokee.
"I'm actually a manufacturer representative visiting from our Corporate HQ in Michigan," He explained as he showed Stephen a much newer hybrid-drive version of his model on the sales floor. "And I got roped into covering a staffing shortage. But I promise that I am more than qualified to show you around our product lineup."
He paused and laughed. "Heck, 20 years ago, I was part of the product line!"
Chelsea also laughed, and Stephen felt rather like he did when the engines had an in-joke that he didn't get.
-
Looking over the SUV showed Stephen that while it had many positive attributes, it still wasn't what he wanted. It was too modern, too dependent on technology.
And, as he discovered, this was true of the other cars Jeep sold. Two were also very small and quite uncomfortable, while the third was...
"Where have the doors gone?" He asked as he looked at the Wrangler parked inside the showroom.
"Oh, they can be removed." Said the older Jeep, pointing out the mounting brackets for the doors with his tires. "It's a very popular off-roader, and totally legal to drive with the doors off, so quite a lot of people do it."
"I can't imagine that the electrics mind that." Chelsea murmured, not quite on board with the idea of leaving her doors behind.
"Oh no, the interior is actually fully waterproof; you can wash it off with a hose if you need to." Another pause, and a small smile followed this. "Believe me when I say how useful it is. I've got beige cloth and it needs upkeep, yaknow?"
"Do I ever!" This from Chelsea.
Stephen ignored them, and frowned as he examined the car's interior. Even in this Wrangler, there was a massive screen in the middle of the dashboard, and there was an automatic transmission instead of a manual. "I don't suppose that you have anything more... simple than this, do you? I have quite recently become disenchanted with all the modern gadgetry of today's cars."
The Jeep's brows furrowed. "We do have some used stuff, but at this point it's going to be out of Certified Pre-Owned range." He backed up and tapped a wheel on the floor as he thought about something. "Actually, I do have one car that you might be interested in. It's gonna be a bit of a long shot, but it's the best I can do."
"At this point, I will take a long shot over nothing." Stephen was fairly desperate, and didn't have the energy to hide it at this point.
The Jeep led them into the back of the dealership building. There, a car sat in a dark corner. It was hidden by the lack of light, but what little could be seen showed it was a very aggressive looking car indeed.
"I'm sorry about the dramatic reveal, but usually they don't show this one." He said apologetically as he looked for the light switch. "This was a special edition for one of the top dealers in the states. One of 20, if I remember right. It got gray-market imported right after it was sold - some collector in... Wogan? Wigan? something like that, bought it - and he just looked at it until he sold it at auction, because it has 64 miles on it. And it's a 2010."
He found the light switch, and Chelsea gasped at what she saw.
Stephen had to admit, it was... quite the car. "It's-"
-------
The Next Day
"-Yellow." Helen Hatt finished, her tone flat.
"Yes, I am aware of that." Stephen said, his expression becoming more and more fixed as his wife looked at his new car.
"Are you also aware that it is the most inconspicuous thing I have ever seen?"
"The thought did cross my mind."
"Did it."
"Yes."
"Then why is it in our driveway?"
"Because, Helen," Stephen sighed. "It has a manual transmission, no electronic driver aids of any kind, save for anti-lock brakes and traction control, one screen - and a small one at that - and all of the control systems are controlled by the driver. It is not smart, it is not electric, and it is not a computer. It is a car, Helen. And as far as I am able to tell, it is one of the only ones of its kind for sale on this Island. So I bought it."
She looked at him, and then at the car. "There was nothing else? What about that Vauxhall dealership that always advertises on the telly? Their cars look simple."
"Their cars talk, love. Everything in my life talks. My trains talk. My employees talk. My mobile phone not only talks, but has a name, one I dare not speak aloud lest I wake it up. At this point, it would not surprise me if I woke up one morning and the house started talking to me." He let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "So I bought this car, because I need one thing in my life that does. Not. Talk."
Helen's face softened. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that this was such an issue."
"It really isn't as massive as I make it out to be, but I just need one thing that doesn't complain if I leave it out in the rain."
That brought out a giggle from his wife, and he knew that she was on board now. "Would you like to go for a drive? It is quite something."
"Looking like that, I'd imagine it would have to be." Helen said as she opened the passenger side door. "Do you mind if I run through my other grievances on this? Just so we can get them out of the way?"
"Be my guest." Stephen said as he opened the boot and began looking for something within.
"Isn't the wheel on the wrong side?" She started.
"It's imported from America."
"Isn't that dangerous? To drive on the wrong side of the car?"
"French tourists manage it, all the time."
"What will the neighbors think?"
"This is far from the strangest thing they've seen, and I don't care anyways."
"How much did it cost?"
"A sizable amount. We can afford it."
"How much petrol does it use?"
"More than it should. We can afford it."
"Doesn't that hurt the environment?"
"It would be hypocritical for me to run steam and diesel engines on the railway and think that I'm going to save the planet by driving a Prius."
"Will anyone think that you're having a midlife crisis?"
"Love, we are in our 80's. We are, at best, exceptionally spry pensioners." He pulled the shopping bag from the boot, and removed two sunglass cases from it. "Here."
"As if you'd ever stop working long enough to take a pension. What are these?"
"Aviator sunglasses. Everyone at the dealership was most insistent that I wear them when I drive it."
"Why?"
"Because it looks, and I quote, "Awesome".
"Really?"
"Based on my drive home last night, I'm inclined to believe them." He left the boot lid up, reached into the cabin, and unlatched the roof, allowing the convertible top to come free.
Folding it away, he slammed the boot lid shut and addressed his wife. "Any other concerns?"
"I think David Drury might explode if he finds out that you've got a sportier car than him." Helen did look very fetching with the Ray-Bans on, in his opinion.
"I'd quite like to see that, but I think he'd have to get in line behind Richard and Bridget."
"Of course Richard would, but what's got your sister in such a knot?"
"I spoke to her last night; She bought a new car last week." Stephen lowered himself into the low-slung driver's seat and fished around his pockets for the keys. "It's one of those new Fiats with the TwinAir motor."
"What's that?"
"A two cylinder engine, less than a liter's displacement." He looked at her over the rim of the sunglasses. "She was very pleased at how efficient it is."
"How many liters is this, then?"
Stephen twisted the key in the ignition, and the quiet morning was shattered by the naturally aspirated bellow of the V10 engine inside the Dodge Viper ACR. "Eight. And a half."
Helen could only throw her head back and laugh at her husband's antics, and the car roared out of the driveway and onto the main road, squealing the tires all the way.
-------------------------------------
The next week - The Drury Farms Warehouse outside of Knapford
A yellow and black Viper rumbled up to the archway on the entrance road. On the arch, a sign reading "AUTO-X EVENT SIGNUPS" fluttered in the breeze. It was a minute before the car moved again, as staff members had to be convinced that the driver was not trying to enter the event as a contestant.
Eventually, the car was pointed in the direction of the parking area, and it stopped near the fences that separated the competitors from the viewing crowd. The car's passenger door opened, and a pale-faced man stumbled out, just managing to avoid burning his leg on the exhaust pipe just behind the door sill. Like a newborn deer, he stumbled and weaved his way across the lot until his stomach calmed down. He clutched the plastic folder in his hands against his chest like a lifeline.
Eventually, he found who he was looking for: a glossy black Range Rover that was sitting in the contestant's paddock. As he approached, she perked up on her suspension. He briefly observed a card with numbers on it attached to her side with magnets, but decided it wasn't really important.
"You're Mister Hatt's son, right?" The Rover asked as he walked to her. "I thought I saw his car - is he letting you drive it?"
"My father," Richard wheezed, still not totally composed. "Has bought that ridiculous sports car and has decided to drive everywhere like a madman!"
She looked sympathetic. "Not the 'go-fast' type?"
"I thought I was." He was still unsteady on his feet, and Chelsea opened a rear door for him to sit down in without a word. "Thank you." He said, fairly collapsing into the rear seats.
"Not a problem - just don't throw up on my upholstery, okay?"
"Hopefully it won't come to that."
"It had better not." She paused for a moment, watching an older Jeep race around a corner on the course that had been set out in the warehouse's vast forecourt. "What did you come here for? Does Mister Hatt need me to drive for him again?"
"Yes, but not in the way that you're thinking."
"What do you mean?"
"My father was very impressed with your work ethic and skills when you chauffeured him, and he has asked me to extend to you an offer of employment with the NWR." Richard wasn't quite sure what to do with the folder containing the offer, and eventually just slid it into the driver's seat. "it would be similar to your current job, but with some more specialized transport duties. There's also room for promotion within the railway."
He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. His father had taken that last roundabout exceptionally fast, and he was still loopy from it. "Everything is in the folder, and I would love to sit down with you in an official capacity sometime on Monday to go over everything in detail. This is just the offer, so don't feel obliged to say anything now..." His head spun a little, and he held his head in his hands and covered his eyes. "My god, does he drive like a maniac..."
Chelsea was quiet, and Richard wasn't sure what to do next. "Obviously you're not obligated to say yes right now, or at all, even-"
"Of course I'll do it!" Chelsea squealed. "I'd love to work for Mister Hatt!"
"Work for who?" A voice asked from next to Chelsea. Richard opened his eyes and saw that the Jeep from earlier was now next to Chelsea in the paddock.
"I got a job offer from the railway!" She said, bouncing back and forth on her suspension and making Richard's head swim.
"Oh that's wonderful!" The Jeep said, an enthusiastic grin on his face. "Two wins in one day!"
"Two?"
"They just posted the times. You made the finals!"
"I did?"
Richard tuned them out, and tried breathing deeply through his mouth to settle his nausea.
"Yes!"
"Oh wow! That's- oh skidplates! That's now!"
"I know! Go! Kick some bumper!"
"Okay!" She moved forwards and then stopped. Unconsciously, Richard reached over and drew the nearest seatbelt he could find over himself. "Mister Hatt, I'm about to do a lap. You might want to get out if you're not up to it."
Richard was barely paying any attention to anything other than his own breathing, and just tugged on the seatbelt to say "I need a minute" in a non-verbal manner.
"Oh-kay... if you think you're up for it..." Chelsea sounded wary, not that Richard paid any attention.
For the next few minutes, she didn't say anything, and Richard found the rocking motions of her movement quite soothing.
Finally, she stopped, and Richard opened his eyes for the first time in a few minutes. "What..?"
"Mister Hatt, if you want to get out, you've got about five seconds before that flag drops." Chelsea said as she stood on the starting line of the racetrack.
It took Richard about four seconds to comprehend exactly what was about to happen, and one very long second to realize that he was not going to be able to get out in time.
The green flag dropped.
-
Exactly one minute and fifty seconds later, Chelsea screeched across the finish line.
Exactly ten seconds after that, her rear door opened, and Richard Hatt barreled out, running as fast as he could for a litter bin by the judges' table.
Stephen Hatt and David Drury watched from the visitor's parking area with amused interest
"Does he do any of this sort of thing?" David asked as he leaned against his Ferrari.
"I love my son dearly," Stephen said from behind the wheel of the Viper. "But having caffeine after supper is what he considers exciting!"
