Twin Stick Homecoming

"Seat Safety Switch" (seat-safety-switch)
11/24/2015 at 11:54 • Filed to: freak jeep, automotive weapon X, canadian government experiments

A friend sends me an instant message, the insistent ping a Pavlovian cue so cliche it makes my dog begin to spontaneously vomit in envy. His words are improbable. I click on the link. My world disassembles itself like a moneyshift on the back straight of Spa.

I can scarcely believe my eyes. !!!error: Indecipherable SUB-paragraph formatting!!! , like so many others before it. What makes my heart begin to race is a picture of the gauge panel. Hundreds of gauges sit upon a piece of polished aluminum dashboard. A suck-through turbo setup feeds the carburetor for a Buick V8, hastily sawzalled and tack-welded into position. An entirely custom frame. Bizarre anachronistic drive hubs. Rear-steer hydraulic assist axles. Odometer reading could not be confirmed. Sold for parts only.

I was confused. But something seemed familiar about this Frankenjeep. I knew I had to go deeper.

My mother unlocked and opened the front door to her house for me as soon as she heard the rattletrap sound of the VNT turbocharger on my Dodge Rampage’s overstressed 2.2 coming up the block. I stormed inside, asking her pointed questions, almost none of which contained words comprehensible to her. At last, she sighed, and removed a photo album from behind the refrigerator.

“You were so sick,” she spoke hesitantly, “and the man from the government said there was a program that could help you.”

I looked at the photos. It was some kind of training camp. A baby in the black and white pictures beneath a nest of hoses and IV lines, I was told, was me. They had done something to me, taken advantage of my parents’ panic. The Jeep had to be connected, I felt it.

At the air force base, I approached the duty officer working the front desk. He directed me to the quartermaster to pick up the Jeep, having won it with an immense and ridiculous last-minute bid. I clenched and unclenched my fists in the elevator, realizing that the scents of the area carried half-forgotten memories. I would have the truth soon.

The quartermaster’s office was empty, but his coffee was still hot, his computer still open to the Kijiji sub-$1000 car search. A window curtain flapped wildly in the December breeze. I went to the window, and saw a small form fleeing, in sheer panic, for a G-body El Camino parked out front.

I took his keys and let myself into the garage. Something felt right about the Jeep, I realized with a start as my hands reached for the controls, muscle memory settling in. Had I been born to drive this Jeep? The answer, like so many others in life, awaited at the end of a turbocharged V8.

DISCUSSION (4)

Party-vi > Seat Safety Switch
11/24/2015 at 12:14

What in the everloving hell is that thing?

Seat Safety Switch > Party-vi
11/24/2015 at 12:23

I wish I knew. It has so many gauges. Two sticks. Custom transfer case. Custom frame. Maybe once it was a Scrambler. Carbureted turbo setup. Rear-steer axles.

Party-vi > Seat Safety Switch
11/24/2015 at 12:24

Independent suspension, sick-ass heater set-up. Maybe a remote service vehicle?

Daily Drives a Dragon - One Last Lap > Seat Safety Switch
11/24/2015 at 13:45

Whatever the Jeep is, it sounds awesome.