"How do you know about his glasses?"
"EBay."
*Click.*
"WHICH POCKET?!"
"MAH BACK POKET!"
"YOU GOT 10 BACK POCKET!"
"LEFT CHEEK! LEFT CHEEK! LEFT CH—"
*Click.*
"B-127, stop lubricating the man."
*Click.*
Ron and Judy Witwicky sat on the couch as Ron kept flipping through channels. The screen flickered nonstop — from one comedy show to another sitcom. He frowned, letting out a sigh.
— Another comedy show...
— Then stop and watch it.- Judy glanced sideways.
Ron flipped through a few more channels, as if struck by a sudden thought. He chuckled and said:
— Not yet. A few more channels to go. This… this is the epic journey of Ron Witwicky's quest for 'serious TV'.
— There it is again… that same old sense of humor.- Judy exhaled.
— Well... life itself is a comedy. The only difference is… I'm the audience.
Judy stared at him for a few seconds before turning away, trying to stifle a laugh.
— No wonder Sam screams so much.
From the stairs, Sam came rushing down, wearing the usual flashy outfit of an eager teenager. The sound of car keys jingling in his hand matched the excitement on his face. Ron noticed and called out,
— Off to take the new ride for a spin, huh, champ?
— Yeah!
— Be back before 11. And remember what I said — no running red lights!
— I heard you!
Sam hurriedly slipped on his shoes and bolted outside to his waiting Camaro. He started the engine and sped off, leaving a cloud of golden-brown dust hanging over the freshly watered grass.
Judy muttered under her breath:
— Looks like you'll have to water it again.
— Yeah… well, that lush green grass isn't as beautiful as his speed.- Ron sighed, swallowing his frustration.
— Speed? You mean the speed of you watering it again?
He could only chuckle awkwardly at that, gently pressing the remote to switch channels again. This time, he stopped on a live news broadcast. The anchor's voice was steady, but the content made the atmosphere in the room suddenly turn heavy:
*"In the past 24 hours, multiple massive meteor craters have appeared across several continents. However, strangely… no meteor fragments have been found inside these craters. Scientists are still investigating this mysterious phenomenon."*
Judy frowned slightly, leaning back in her seat, her eyes fixed on the screen.
— Don't you think this is strange? I mean… meteors falling with no meteors? Sounds like something out of a sci-fi movie. Could it be aliens?
Ron chuckled lazily, crossing his arms as he leaned back.
— Or maybe the aliens forgot their spaceship licenses and had to turn back home to find them.
Judy shot him a sharp glare.
— You never take anything seriously! This is a big deal.
Ron sighed, shaking his head with a look that screamed "here we go again."
— Well… maybe it's a new kind of meteor. Not solid… but a "phasing meteor."
Judy let out a small laugh, this time mixed with a hint of exasperation.
— "Phasing"? Ron Witwicky, you really are a genius… at coming up with nonsense.
— Well, at least we don't have to clean anything up. Just fill the hole and call it a day. — He shrugged smugly.
Judy shook her head, standing up with a long, drawn-out sigh.
— I have no idea how you've made it this far in life.
Ron raised an eyebrow, pointing at himself.
— My top-tier sense of humor, that's how.
Judy walked straight to the kitchen, leaving Ron alone with a satisfied smile… until the TV screen suddenly flickered with static for a few brief seconds. A faint buzzing noise crackled before vanishing.
Ron frowned slightly but shrugged it off.
— Must be a weak signal.
He casually switched the channel again, completely unaware that just outside the window, a faint blue light had flickered… and then disappeared.
The newly restored Camaro sped down the suburban road, racing past rows of trees and small houses glistening under the afternoon sun. The engine growled loudly, but inside the cabin, Sam Witwicky was too busy fiddling with the radio, trying to tune in to his favorite song.
— Oh, come on… this radio is worse than my dad's coffee machine. — He chuckled awkwardly. After all, he was the one who picked it.
Just as he pulled up in front of Miles Lancaster's house, the front door burst open. Miles — his skinny best friend with messy blond hair, skateboard in hand — came rushing out, as excited as if he had just won the lottery. As he flung the car door open, he shouted:
— Yo, Sam! What is this?! Is this car for real?!
Sam shrugged with a smug smile.
— Nope, it's a hologram. Now hurry up and get in.
Miles jumped into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him. He ran his hand over the dashboard, eyes wide with amazement.
— Whoa… smooth as hell! Is this yours? Not your dad's?
— My dad's car? Oh yeah, totally… if he suddenly traded his minivan for a bright yellow Camaro, then sure… it's his. — Sam laughed.
Miles leaned back in his seat, still overwhelmed. He glanced down at the floor mats, which were spotless and shiny.
— I kinda feel bad for this car… having you as its owner.
— Oh, really? Maybe I should kick you out so it won't suffer.
They both burst out laughing. Sam hit the gas, and the Camaro roared down the narrow road, leaving a trail of dust behind.
Miles shouted over the wind:
— Hey! Where to first, man?
— Find some girls… or at least see if anyone even looks at us.
— Yeah! Oh! Don't forget to honk — show off a little!
— Good idea!
Sam honked the horn, but instead of a normal beep, it blasted a loud, clownish circus tune. Both of them froze.
— What the hell… What was that?
— Oh my god, I think you bought a clown car! — Miles burst out laughing.
Sam shook his head, forcing a chuckle, but deep down, he was puzzled. Behind the wheel, the lights on the dashboard flickered strangely… almost as if the car was quietly laughing at them.
As the Camaro sped through the park, Miles suddenly slapped Sam on the shoulder, pointing excitedly in one direction, completely blocking his view.
— Sam! Look! Look over there!
— Dude, chill! I'm driving! If we crash now, we're done for!
But in the confusion, instead of slowing down, Sam instinctively pressed harder on the gas. The engine roared as the Camaro shot forward at breakneck speed.
— SAM! HIT THE BRAKES! HIT THE BRAKES NOW!!!
— I'M TRYING!!!
Sam frantically slammed the brakes, but the pedal felt soft and unresponsive. The speedometer kept climbing, and the telephone pole ahead loomed closer and closer.
— IT'S NOT WORKING! WE'RE GONNA DIE!!!
Miles started screaming in sheer panic, as if spilling his last confession before the end:
— SAM! I'M SORRY FOR LOSING YOUR LIMITED-EDITION COMIC! IT WASN'T MY COUSIN, IT WAS ME!!!
— I'M SORRY TOO! I BROKE YOUR FIRST SKATEBOARD — THE ONE YOUR GRANDPA GAVE YOU!!!
In the next heartbeat, with only a few meters left before impact, the steering wheel suddenly turned on its own. The tires screeched in a deafening wail, carving a perfect curve on the asphalt. The Camaro swerved around the pole and came to a flawless stop alongside the sidewalk — so precise it looked straight out of an action movie.
Both of them sat there, gasping for breath, eyes wide with shock. Neither said a word for a few seconds.
Then, from shallow breaths came quiet chuckles… which turned into uncontrollable laughter.
— WE'RE ALIVE! WE'RE FREAKING ALIVE!!!
— HELL YEAH, SAM! WE SURVIVED!!!
But as soon as the laughter faded, the bitter truth slowly dawned on them. The two confessions they had just blurted out echoed in their minds like a slow-motion replay. The joyful atmosphere instantly grew heavy.
Sam sighed, staring straight ahead, his voice now calm but low.
— Alright… let's keep the peace… keep the peace…
— Yeah… keep the peace…
Outside, they hugged each other like best friends. But inside?
They were ready to tear each other apart like two wolves on the verge of a fight.
— Whatever… but what were you trying to show me earlier?
— Man, you're blind as a bat. Look again.
Sam squinted in the direction Miles was pointing and immediately spotted a familiar face — Mikaela Banes. The girl every guy dreamed of, and of course, Sam was no exception.
She had a sporty, alluring beauty with a bold, confident charm. Her long, wavy brown hair cascaded naturally over her shoulders. Her piercing blue eyes shimmered with confidence and a hint of mischief, as if she always knew she stood out in any crowd. Her lightly tanned skin, smooth from days spent under the sun, added a touch of natural vitality.
With a slender, well-proportioned figure that wasn't over-the-top but effortlessly captivating from every angle, Sam found himself completely mesmerized, staring so intensely that he almost forgot to breathe.
— Sam…
Miles called softly, but Sam didn't respond.
— Sam.
Still no reaction.
— YOUR FLY IS DOWN, SAM!!!
Sam jolted in panic, immediately looking down in horror… only to find his zipper perfectly closed. Slowly, he looked back up, his gaze drilling holes into Miles' face, while his friend waved his hands innocently.
— Relax, dude… just a little joke.
— Right… so what were you pointing at for? — Sam narrowed his eyes, full of suspicion.
Miles crossed his arms, putting on an unusually serious expression.
— I heard that when someone with low self-esteem gets a girlfriend, their confidence skyrockets. And for a clumsy guy like you, it's perfect.
Sam froze for a few seconds, his brain processing each word. Then suddenly, like a thunderclap, he burst out:
— YOU WANT ME TO ASK OUT MIKAELA?!
— Exactly! — Miles beamed, slapping Sam hard on the shoulder. — I'm your best friend; I gotta hype you up!
Before Sam could even react, Miles flung the car door open and bolted outside like the wind. Sam panicked, shouting after him:
— Miles! Where are you going?! I thought we agreed on "bros before girls"!
Miles kept walking, waving confidently.
— Exactly! That's why I'm gonna light up your love life so bright you won't see the way home! Don't worry! I'm only into older ladies anyway!
Sam stared in disbelief, completely dumbfounded by what was happening. He scrambled to grab the door handle to chase after Miles… but strangely enough, the door was jammed. No matter how hard he pulled, it wouldn't budge.
— What the heck now?! — Sam gasped, yanking the handle frantically.
At that moment, the car radio suddenly turned on in a bizarre way. The familiar melody of Frankie Valli's "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" echoed from the small speaker in front:
"You're just too good to be true…
Can't take my eyes off you…"
Sam's eyes widened instantly.
— What the hell…?!
Miles had already approached Mikaela, waving enthusiastically while Sam kept tugging at the car door, sweating. He tried turning off the radio, but it didn't work. The volume only got louder:
"I love you, baby…
And if it's quite alright…"
— STOP IT! — Sam yelled.
Despite his panic, a thought flashed through his mind for a brief second:
"This is an old car, right? Could it… actually be haunted?!"
He slammed his hands against the steering wheel, breathing heavily.
— This car is definitely possessed.
Meanwhile, outside, Miles was eagerly chatting with Mikaela, likely bragging about something — probably about Sam. All Sam could do was sit in the car, forced to endure the romantic music blaring in his ears.
— Perfect. Absolutely perfect. — Sam sighed in frustration, leaning back in his seat, gazing blankly through the windshield.
The music continued:
"You're just too good to be true…
Can't take my eyes off you…"
— Worst day of my life…
—-
Miles cheerfully ran back to Sam after five minutes — which felt more like five centuries to Sam. What stood out even more was the fact that Mikaela was walking right behind him. Sam was practically paralyzed in that moment, especially with the romantic music still playing faintly in the car.
— You're in luck; she's single. Don't let me down! — Miles slapped Sam on the shoulder before disappearing like he was never there.
Sam barely had time to react. He sat frozen in his seat, feeling like his soul was about to leave his body.
— Hey, you okay?
A soft, clear voice rang out — gentle, but enough to make Sam's heart pound. He whipped his head around — and nearly fell over.
Mikaela was already sitting in the passenger seat. When did she get there?
— Is this a dream…?
He pinched his cheek — hard.
— Ouch!
Not a dream.
— Oh my God! She's actually in my car! — Sam screamed internally.
His whole body trembled as he desperately tried to muster what little confidence he had left.
— H-hey… you remember me, right?
Mikaela smiled.
— Of course. Sam Witwicky. History champion… but failing at pretty much every other class.
Sam scratched his head, trying to swallow the lump of embarrassment stuck in his throat.
— Yeah… that sounds about right…
Mikaela raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her seat comfortably.
— So… are you giving me a ride home? Your friend said you would.
— Oh, yeah… yeah, of course, but… — Sam took a deep breath, trying to sound "cool." — I'm just missing one thing… the address of the beautiful lady sitting next to me.
...
It took Sam a second to realize what he had just said.
The air grew heavy with an awkward, suffocating silence. Mikaela blinked, looking at him with mild confusion. Sam wanted to slam his head against the steering wheel right then and there.
"Oh God… someone get me out of here…" — he thought.
But the car remained still.
And the romantic music kept playing, as if determined to push Sam further into the pit of despair:
*"I love you, baby…
And if it's quite alright…"*
— Worst day of my life… — Sam muttered, slumping back into his seat.
Sam sat in the car, trying to calm himself, looking at him with a slightly puzzled expression. The romantic song still played mockingly from the radio — just when he needed silence the most.
— So… are you gonna start the car? — Mikaela tilted her head, speaking gently.
Sam jolted.
— Oh, right! Yeah, of course…
Fumbling, he inserted the key into the ignition and turned it hard. The engine let out a dry "clunk"… then went dead.
Sam winced and tried again. Once more, nothing but sputtering noises — as if the car was throwing a tantrum.
— Great… the car dies… right now. — He mumbled under his breath.
Mikaela chuckled softly.
— Your car giving you trouble?
— Uh… yeah… I mean no — I mean, sometimes! — Sam stammered. — I just bought it… probably just old and a little… picky.
He tried one more time. This time, the engine roared to life — but not in a normal way. It was deeper, louder, more powerful — like a giant beast awakening.
Sam froze, eyes wide.
— Did you mod your car? — Mikaela raised an eyebrow.
— No… Not at all… — Sam gulped, hands still gripping the steering wheel.
Right then, the radio switched to another song — this time "Sexual Healing" by Marvin Gaye.
"Baby, I'm hot just like an oven…
I need some lovin'…"
— Oh, come on… — Sam groaned, quickly turning off the radio, his face burning red.
Mikaela chuckled softly.
— Your car… has great taste in music.
— No, I swear I didn't play that! It turned on by itself! — Sam waved his hands frantically. — Seriously… I'm starting to think this thing is haunted.
Mikaela smiled.
— Maybe you should get it exorcised.
Sam forced a weak grin. He stepped on the gas, eager to drive away from this embarrassment… but strangely, the steering wheel locked.
The car… was driving itself.
— What the hell?! — Sam shouted, gripping the wheel, trying to take control — but it was useless.
Mikaela was starting to notice something was seriously wrong.
— What are you doing?!
— I don't know! I swear it's not me! It's driving itself!
The car accelerated, racing down the crowded street. Sam and Mikaela were thrown around in their seats. Tires screeched on the pavement, car horns blared, but the yellow Camaro kept speeding ahead.
— STOP! PLEASE STOP! — Sam screamed, slamming on the brakes, but nothing happened.
Mikaela clung tightly to the door.
— Are you serious?! Stop messing around!
— I'm not messing around! It's really driving itself!
The car finally took them to the outskirts of town, surrounded by nature, and came to a sudden halt. The momentum sent both of them lurching forward, nearly smashing their heads into the dashboard.
The radio came back on — this time playing "Drive" by The Cars.
"Who's gonna drive you home…
Tonight?"
Sam panted heavily, sweat dripping down his face. He stared at the steering wheel as if it were an alien life form.
— What the hell just happened?!
Mikaela was silent for a moment, eyes wide with shock.
— Sam… your car is definitely haunted.
Sam didn't know what to say. To be honest… he was starting to think the same thing.
Sam sighed, stepping out of the car with a bewildered expression. He bent down, resting his hands on his knees, trying to take deep breaths to calm himself. Mikaela stepped out right after him, still stunned by what had just happened.
— Your car seriously has some issues. — She shook her head. — Could it be a wiring problem?
— I… I don't know… — Sam replied, his shaky hand resting on the car door. — I don't even understand what it just did…
Mikaela walked around to the front of the car, leaning down to inspect the hood.
— Mind if I take a look at the engine?
— Oh… yeah, sure! — Sam fumbled as he pulled the hood release. — Wait… you know about cars?
— Yeah, my dad's a mechanic.
The hood popped open with a gentle "click." Mikaela lifted it with ease, moving like a seasoned mechanic. But after just a few seconds, she froze. Her eyes widened in surprise.
— Wait… what is this? — she muttered, leaning in closer.
— What's wrong? — Sam asked, confused, as he approached.
Mikaela shook her head slightly, raising an eyebrow as her fingers traced a few components inside the engine bay.
— This engine… it doesn't look like anything I've ever seen. — Her voice dropped, almost as if she was talking to herself. — Everything… it's so clean, perfect, shiny… like it was built yesterday.
Sam bent down to look as well, but he couldn't make sense of anything she was saying. To him, it was just a tangled mess of metal and wires.
— Isn't… isn't that a good thing?
— No, that's the problem. — Mikaela exhaled, shaking her head. — Old cars never have engines like this. The wiring, the metal, even the turbocharger — it looks like it belongs in a high-tech race car, not an old Camaro.
She glanced up at Sam, her expression serious.
— Are you sure you didn't modify this thing?
— I swear I didn't, only the interior and the outer coating! — Sam raised his hands, his voice filled with confusion. — I don't know anything about cars! I just bought it from a used car lot…
Mikaela stayed silent for a moment, still staring at the engine with a skeptical look. She wiped her hands on her jeans before standing up straight.
— Whatever… it's your car, not mine.
Sam let out a small breath of relief… but then a thought crossed his mind.
— By the way… why did you even get in my car? I mean… you don't usually hang out with guys like me.
Mikaela hesitated for a second, then shrugged.
— Honestly… I wasn't going to.
— What?
— Every time I'm out, there are tons of guys trying to hit on me. Like… they see me and just won't leave me alone. — She chuckled softly, though it wasn't exactly a happy laugh. — I'm so tired of it.
Sam fell quiet, feeling a bit awkward.
— But… why was it different with me?
Mikaela raised an eyebrow slightly and smiled gently.
— Because you're you. I've seen a lot of people, and you're one of the honest ones I know. You don't try to act cool or do dumb things to impress me. I mean, you did once, but it was insignificant. After all … that's honestly a lot more refreshing.
Sam froze, his eyes wide. His heart pounded in his chest like a drum.
— R-really?
Mikaela chuckled softly.
— Don't make me regret getting in your car, Sam.
Sam grinned, as if all his previous worries had vanished in an instant.
—-
After a while, the car finally ran normally, taking both of them home. The yellow Camaro slowed to a stop in front of Mikaela's house. The sky had deepened to a dark blue, with the streetlights casting a faint golden glow over the car's surface. Sam sat behind the wheel, gripping it tightly as if letting go would cause everything to slip away.
Mikaela unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to him with a gentle smile.
— Thanks for driving me home.
— No… no problem. — Sam stammered.
— I mean… of course. I do this all the time… for friends. — He suddenly paused. — I'm sorry.
She blinked, slightly furrowing her brow.
— For what?
Sam swallowed hard, hesitating for a few seconds.
— For… thinking you were the kind of girl who's stuck-up and hard to approach. I was wrong.
Mikaela raised her eyebrows slightly, a hint of surprise in her eyes.
— So… what do you think of me now?
Sam exhaled softly. This time, he looked her in the eyes with intention.
— Your real beauty… isn't just on the outside. It's more than what meets the eye.
Mikaela froze for a moment. Her gentle smile faded slightly, replaced by a softer, more thoughtful expression.
— Yeah… — She smiled lightly again, her voice a little quieter. — Today was fun. You're different from what I expected.
— So… is that a good thing or a bad thing? — Sam took a deep breath, his heart pounding.
Mikaela tilted her head slightly, her eyes sparkling under the streetlights.
— A good thing.
Sam's heart leapt, his whole body feeling weightless. He nodded repeatedly, trying to stay calm, but the flush on his face gave him away.
— Yeah… good… good. That's… that's great.
Mikaela opened the door and stepped out, but before walking away, she paused and leaned down at the window.
— Goodnight, Sam.
Sam beamed, his voice faltering slightly.
— Goodnight…
Mikaela turned and walked toward her house, her figure disappearing behind the door. Sam remained in his seat, staring straight ahead. Slowly, he let out a long breath, leaning his head back against the seat with a quiet sigh of relief.
— I just talked to Mikaela Banes… She smiled at me…
A goofy but utterly happy smile spread across his face.
—-
Sam's Bedroom
The clock on the wall struck 11 p.m. Sam lay in bed, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. He turned over again and again, but his mind kept racing with everything that had happened that day.
— I drove her home… I actually did it…
But just as things were starting to calm down, a strange sound caught Sam's attention. It was the sound of an engine…
— Wait a second… — Sam sat up abruptly, frowning as he looked out the window.
What he saw was unbelievable — his Camaro had just started on its own and was slowly rolling out of the driveway.
— What?! — Sam yelled, bolting downstairs and hurriedly throwing on his shoes.
He jumped onto a nearby bicycle, pedaling furiously while calling the police.
— Hello?! Police! My car is driving itself out of my house!
— What did you say? Your car is driving itself? - The Police ask.
— No! I mean… well… yeah, it is driving itself, but that's impossible! Please, just get here now!
He hung up and kept chasing the Camaro as it rolled toward the junkyard.
---
The Junkyard
Sam panted heavily by the time he finally caught up. The car had come to a stop in the middle of the junkyard, sitting silently under the moonlight. The police hadn't arrived yet.
And then… the impossible happened right in front of him.
The Camaro began to change.
— Wait… what the heck?! — Sam whispered, quickly ducking behind a pile of scrap, his eyes glued to the car.
The wheels rotated in reverse, the chassis split apart, and metal shifted like a living organism. In mere seconds, what stood before Sam was no longer a car… but a towering robot.
— Oh my God… — Sam stumbled backward, covering his mouth with his hand.
The robot stood tall and imposing under the moonlight. It emitted strange noises, like electronic signals transmitting data. A blue beam shot into the sky — it was sending a signal.
It was… calling for something…
At that moment, the wail of sirens echoed through the night. The police had arrived. Sam turned around, waving frantically.
— Hey! Over there! There's a…
But before he could finish, the robot had already transformed back into the Camaro and driven off. All the police saw was Sam standing breathless in the middle of the junkyard.
— What are you doing here? — The officer frowned.
— I… I… — Sam stammered.
— Trespassing, huh? Get in the car!
— No, wait! It's a robot! It was right here! It just…
Before Sam could explain, the officer pulled him toward the patrol car.
— Alright, save the story for tomorrow. Get in the car! Sam lowered his head, his eyes drifting hopelessly toward the Camaro as it disappeared from view.
— I… I'm not crazy… right?
End of Chapter 4