[ WP ] You know the random driver in every action movie where the hero jumps in and orders to `` follow that car ! '' . Yup , that 's you . Every single time you 're trying to get anywhere .

I'm getting sick of it. 
 
 Every time, every single time I get in this car, something ridiculous happens. I'm an honest man, trying to make an honest living, and I have to put up with this. For some reason, every hard-boiled detective, fugitive space warrior, and mobster-with-a-heart-of-gold chooses this cab. 
 
 I'll be sitting there, waiting for a fare - a normal fare - and along they'll come. All I want is a nice old lady who needs to go to the shops, or a couple heading for the airport for a romantic break. But no - I get the secret agents with armoured briefcases, and plucky reporters who have a `` complicated'' relationship with a superhero. 
 
 It's all `` follow that car'' and `` step on it'', and then off we go on a ridiculous car chase. 
 
 In the past three weeks, I have driven through fourteen large barns, each time coming out surrounded by squawking chickens. I have jumped a missing section of road eight times. And I have been punched by a masked ninja standing on the hood of my car six times. The doctor says my nose will never fully straighten. 
 
 It's not good for my blood pressure, I can tell you. Every day is another high-speed race through downtown Tokyo, or Megacity Prime. I do n't know how we get there - I live in Bradford. Yet suddenly, we'll turn a corner and be speeding through some high-tech hellscape in a hover car. 
 
 And it's never a peaceful place, either. The most relaxing so far was a mountain road - I think it was the Swiss Alps, or somewhere. Lovely scenery. But two minutes after we get there, I'm having to swerve to dodge rockets and accelerating full tilt at a Nazi helicopter. The square-jawed fella in the cowboy hat was n't helping, either - he kept shouting at me to `` hold her steady'' while he lobbed grenades and flirted with some Russian bird. 
 
 I'm alive, so far. I've been shot at, stabbed, set on fire by a terminator. Pre-cognitive cops shot out one of the tires, and I ended up with whiplash. Whiplash that is never going to heal if I keep on ending up in hansom cab on the trail of the Gang of Four. 
 
 Nerves of steel, I'm telling you. That's what you need to have. And I've been trying to develop them, but it's hard to build your courage when you are constantly scared shitless. I thought I had a handle on it, but then it was all `` Red Leader, standing by'', and I was hurtling towards something that definitely was n't a moon in a giant letter. The git in the back's constant beeping was not an aid to my concentration. 
 
 It does n't even pay that well. Every time the journey finishes, all I get is a handful of money and a gravelly `` keep the change''. Half the time, it's not even legal tender - it'll be a bunch of Imperial credits, florins, or conflict diamonds. What am I meant to do with them? And even when it is real, modern money, it's never enough. Not for the journey, and the petrol ( do you have any idea how much starship fuel costs? ), and the cleaning fees. You try getting pterodactyl blood out of a grille without professional help. 
 
 I thought it was too good a deal to be true. £300 for a car - in good working order - with one careful owner and all the modern conveniences. Nobody mentioned that it would send me all over time and space to be shot at by aliens and savage tribesmen. Or that I'd never get to enjoy the digital radio and self-cleaning windscreen because sometimes it turns into a wicker chariot or a U-boat. 
 
 I'd like to sell it, really I would. But every time I get in to drive to the dealership, someone flings open one of the back doors and off we go. I've tried telling them to get out, that I'm not taking fares, but they do n't listen. The last one just laughed at me, and kept calling me `` Chaz''. 
 
 I tell you what, I'm never buying a stuntman's car again. 
 
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 I do n't have a fancy writing subreddit, but I've got more stories [ here ] ( https: //inconsistentpacing.wordpress.com/fiction ). 

