A Journey Through Time
Last fall, a writer friend challenged me with a writing prompt. “What if there was a car thief who traveled through time?” Within six months, that challenge was the novel, “Racing Through Time”. When writing a story about time travel, you often wonder what the future will hold. If you want my predictions of what the world will look like in 99 years, or even what I thought it would look like a month and a half ago, read the whole book, available from Amazon.
But for this week, let me introduce you to Devin Walpole, a California car thief from the year 2124.
Chapter 1
Devin breathed heavily as he approached his target. All this way, and he was about to hit the jackpot. Years and years of searching, and he would have the only one of its kind left in existence.
The white Ford GT gleamed under the fluorescent glow of the parking garage. Based on the Le Mans-winning race car from the late 1960s, this specimen was one of just over 4,000 built between 2005 and 2006. The white paint was complimented by twin blue stripes arcing from the front bumper to the rear of the car – America’s racing colors.
Devin held out his phone and opened his radio frequency app. He had developed it some years before. The app, Radio Bestie, scanned for radio frequencies in the vicinity, then it would decode them and tell its user exactly what each one was.
“AM 790, 97.1 FM,” the app read as it decoded signals for radio stations.
“MySubaru59X0239BH314DGN09, STELLDODCHA4HD482SU9006LFDS4, GMT9002C5942JY6547TO058”
– vehicle identification numbers. Those VINs refreshed to something more readable after a couple of seconds: “2022 Subaru Outback Wilderness, 2021 Dodge Challenger SRT Demon, 2013 GMC Yukon XL Denali.”
Devin huffed as everything but his GT popped up on the app. Might make sense. Records show the car was bought brand new in July 2004 and never seen on the road again after August the same year. Now it was July 2025. Twenty-one years of sitting, but whoever owned it kept it in pristine condition. If it sat for twenty-one years without so much as being turned over, it was more than likely the battery was dead.
Devin checked his records again. The plates were correct: “California OFP8576”. The VIN was good too. The records showed that the owner, a Mr. Simon Wu, was deceased as of June of 2025, leaving no heirs. Nobody would miss it.
Radio Bestie brought up no more results.
“Well, old ways are still the best ways,” Devin thought to himself.
Devin reached into his backpack and pulled out a lock pick. He did a once-over to check for anyone coming. Solid. The coast was clear. He crouched down and began picking the lock. Careful to not break it, he jiggled it around long enough to hear the click. It was perfect. He pulled the handle, and the door swung open. No way to hotwire it either. At least not yet.
Devin opened the cover on the midship-mounted 5.4-liter supercharged Ford Modular V8. He pulled a battery charger out of his backpack and hooked it up to the battery. Within seconds, the dash lights came on. He opened Radio Bestie on his phone again. There it was: “FOMOCOGT1FAL53I54VKSA8VH7”. Within a couple seconds, it was confirmed: “2005 Ford GT”.
With the battery fully charged, Devin lowered himself down into the driver’s seat, slinging his backpack onto the passenger seat. He opened up another app – another one of his programs. “My CarKey” worked with Radio Bestie by connecting with the key fob’s radio signal. Essentially, if one had both apps, they could start and drive their car without taking their car keys with them. He selected the code for the GT. This took him to a menu screen that looked like a generic car key fob – buttons such as “lock”, “unlock”, “open trunk”, and “panic”. Doing a final once-over, he selected “engine start”.
For the first time in months, the big V8 roared to life. Devin felt like he was in a massage chair as the big mill vibrated the whole car. This was it. He was going to be the proud owner of the last Ford GT. He packed up his gear and buckled up.
Devin knew it was too easy. Before he could put the car into gear, a Huntington Beach police cruiser pulled up with its lights on. Must be security for the parking garage. The officer stepped out of the crossover-turned-squad car. He was a big rock of a man, a colossus who seemed to be chiseled out of stone by a Greek sculptor. He began to approach Devin in the GT. Not today. Devin had come too far and had put too much research into this car for it to end like this. He slowly let off the parking brake and held the clutch down. The officer had left just enough space. As soon as he was far enough away from his squad car, Devin jammed the GT’s transmission into first and mashed the accelerator, leaving two lines of burnt rubber and a big cloud of smoke. The officer rushed back to his car and called in the theft.
Devin threw the car around a corner, climbing up to the next level. This was not the place to drive fast. It wasn’t long before the police officer was on his tail. He powershifted into second as the surface flattened out onto level three.
“HB 866, I’m in pursuit of a white Ford,” the officer radioed. “California plates Ocean-Frank-Paul-Eight-Five-Seven-Six. He’s ascending up the Park-N-Stay garage on Beach Boulevard.”
Devin’s moves clearly confused the officer. Why would he ascend the parking garage? There was nowhere to go. Devin shoved the transmission into third before downshifting back to second for a corner, then ascending the ramp to take him to the fourth level of the garage. Devin loved the perfect balance the GT had – all the weight perfectly placed between the two axels. This car was built for the track. It was almost a crime for the dearly departed Mr. Wu to just leave it sitting here for twenty years.
“HB 866, copy. Do you have a description of the suspect?” came the dispatcher’s voice.
“HB 866, suspect is a white male, 5’9” with, um, brown hair, late teens-early twenties.”
Devin drifted around a blind corner, nearly missing a senior citizen backing out in his Hyundai Santa Fe. The officer wasn’t so lucky. The oblivious senior kept backing up, right into the officer’s path. With a heart-attack-inducing crunch, the police cruiser clipped the Santa Fe, but the police officer never backed down.
“10-50 in the Beach Boulevard Park-N-Stay, level four,” he radioed. “Late-model Hyundai Santa Fe. Continuing pursuit.”
“All units, be advised, there is a 10-50 the Beach Boulevard Park-N-Stay, possibly connected to the stolen vehicle. Please report.”
The driver’s side headlight assembly dangled from the Explorer as its driver kept the suspect in his sights. He would not give up, no matter what got in his way.
“I have no idea what this guy is doing,” the officer radioed dispatch. “He keeps going up and up. He’s trapped. He must have a death wish or something.”
“Then just keep on him,” the dispatcher radioed back. “We’ve reported the car stolen, but I don’t think anyone will miss it. The RO died last month and left no heir. All the same, go after him. Whoever stole that car is definitely a person of interest.”
Level five. Level six. Level seven. Devin was running out of road. As soon as he reached level eight, he fumbled around in his backpack for another tool. He found it right before he had to downshift again to climb to level nine. The tool itself looked like a car phone charger with a digital screen and a USB plug. He plugged it into a cigarette lighter, and it lit up with a bunch of numbers. It was his ticket out. On the screen was the date: 07/21/2025. He started fiddling with it, only to run out of room and needing to downshift. “06/10/2125”. Not it.
“He’s headed to ten,” the officer radioed. “This is it. I’ll have him cornered.”
The tenth level was in the open air. It was now or never. Devin mashed the accelerator. He had found his setting on the device. Third gear. Fourth gear. Fifth gear. His speed climbed as he passed 100 miles per hour.
“Oh my gosh! He’s going to kill himself!” the officer yelled to his dispatcher.
When it looked like the GT was going to smash into the wall, it disappeared into thin air. Not a trace was left behind.
“Um, dispatch,” the officer radioed as he slid to a halt, “please schedule a psych eval when I get back.”
“What happened?”
“You would not believe this. I would not believe this. No one would believe this. That car just vanished right before my eyes!”
The officer hung his head on his steering wheel as he heard the sirens of his back-up wailing ten stories below. This was unbelievable.
“Ocean Ten, please report to the precinct,” the dispatcher radioed.
The officer punched his steering wheel as he put the Explorer into reverse. He cursed out loud as he spun it back around and drove downstairs. There would be a lot of paperwork, which meant a long night. Not to mention, he would undoubtedly be put on leave, if not for the impossible disappearance of his suspect, but for continuing pursuit after causing a collision.
“I need a drink,” he thought to himself as he made his appearance on the fourth level.
