Butterfly Effect: How German Engineering Saved Me from Being Murdered

This is a story my nephew wrote a few years ago. I thought it was appropriate for Halloween, so he agreed that I could post it for you. I edited just a few things (sorry, the editor in me just couldn’t help it) but left the rest as is.

Enjoy!

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By Cecil McKinley

This is going to take a while to explain everything, so stay with me. It all comes around.

My very first car was a dark green 2000 Volkswagen Jetta. It was the most basic of basics when it came to cars. No options whatsoever except for an automatic transmission. It was $300, slow, dumpy, no right headlight, drove straight with the steering wheel practically sideways, let out a cloud of white smoke when started. Every stereotype of a poor high schoolers car you can think of, my car was no exception. Despite it being a piece of German crap, i loved that car. I drove it every chance I had. I don’t think a day went by that I didn’t drive it. I named it Thunderbunny. She was my baby. My beautiful green baby. But Volkswagens from that generation, Jettas especially, had a pretty bad flaw in the automatic transmission. I’m not sure exactly what causes it, but essentially the transmissions gradually get worse and worse until the car will not shift into third gear. And there’s not a thing you can do from there. So, a couple of weeks after Halloween 2019, I was going about 30 mph when the engine suddenly roared, and the car wouldn’t speed up. I feared the worse, and my fears were justified. My dad, a mechanic, didn’t even have hope for my baby. She was gone already. And so, much to my dismay, we started looking for a new car.

It only took about a month for us to find her. A dark green 1999 Volkswagen Jetta. Exactly like my old car but absolutely EVERYTHING. She was faster, had heated leather seats, auto windows, auto sunroof, everything. All except for an automatic transmission. I knew how to drive manual, so it was perfect. I had a new baby, from the crackhead neighbor girl to scarlet johansen. At least in my eyes. I loved that car even harder, named it Little Boy and was happy.

Ok I’m about to get to the story, but I have a few more quick things to explain, you can skip this if you want, its important but not vital to the story. First is for people that might not know, but when you have a manual car, you CANNOT leave it in gear and take your foot off the clutch. If you do, the car WILL stall, which is bad. So if you do leave your car in gear, you need to turn the engine off before taking your foot off the clutch. If you don’t want to turn the car off or have it turn itself off, you need to pull the handbrake or it will roll away. Guess what the only really broken thing on my car was at the point this story takes place. If you guessed the handbrake, you’re right. And that was the second thing, no handbrake.

Ok now to the story. I started working as a pizza delivery driver in a smaller, growing town in Michigan, it was good money but every once in a while I delivered to an incredibly sketchy place, and have had a few shotguns pulled on me. One night, about two months ago, I was on a delivery on a Friday. Usually Fridays are very busy, but this day was a little slow. So when a delivery came in at 8:30, a half an hour before we closed, I jumped on it. I realised it was 7.1 miles away, so all of the closing jobs would be done by the time I got back, and I would have been able to leave immediately. It was way out of town in a wood-surrounded neighborhood, but again, no work when I got back to the store? Seemed like a good deal to me. And im all about those sorts of deals. And so I climbed into my car and went to drive 7.1 miles away.

As I pulled up to the house, I began to get a bad feeling. The house was in a small trailer park type neighborhood next to a lake, the kind that the houses are all a good distance apart with a likely drug problem, and was completely dark. No lights outside, none inside. There was a single car in the driveway and an open window on the side of the house. I pulled in behind the car in the driveway and sat there for a moment. Something was off. By the house being completely dark, I mean there wasn’t so much as a nightlight that I could see. Usually when i deliver to a dark house, there’s at least a light on upstairs or something that would signal someone being awake, waiting for their pizza. But the house seemed dead.

Nevertheless, I put the car in gear, turned off the engine, grabbed the small, cheapest pizza we had and got out. Without my headlights on, there was nothing. I could barely see the house, the only light was the dim moon. I walked onto the porch and passed the big open window to the front door. As I reached the front door, I saw it. The door was slightly cracked open, just enough for me to see into the void of the house. Thinking of every single horror movie I’ve ever seen, I said aloud: ‘F*** that,’ and hurried back to my car. I’m a tall, well built looking guy, but despite my wide shoulders and baggy hoodie, I’m a frail thing, and can hardly fight off a small dog. I got into my car and turned on the engine. My headlights illuminated the house, and almost simultaneously the living room light behind the big open window lit up and a single guy looked out and walked to the front door. I cussed to myself and weighed my options. If I went up to the door, I could die. If I noped out of there I would 110% be fired. That meant no new car part, no gas money, no cute dates with my girl, just sitting at home doing virtual school work.

It was a stupid choice I know, but I grabbed the pizza and opened my door. Making a choice I’m damn glad I made, I took the car out of gear and climbed out. Mostly so my engine would still be running so that if I needed, I could run back and immediately take off. I walked to the door, where the man had opened it the rest of the way. As I got closer, I got a good look at him. I’m not one to judge a person based on their physical appearance, but this guys head was cleanly shaven and was covered in tattoos. He was wearing a pair of grey jeans and a white tank top. He had a scowl on his face and was staring me dead in the eyes. I looked past him for a moment into the house, which was COMPLETELY empty. As I got close enough that I started opening the pizza bag, he started to reach around his waist. I stopped. He was staring at me with the most evil grin I’ve ever seen. I knew in that moment, that I was about to die. I had always heard your life seems to flash before your eyes. I thought about my girl, that she wouldn’t know what happened. My work would stop delivering upon my disappearance, assuming that my body wasn’t ever found. My dad would regret telling me he was happy for me landing this job. God save thee.

That’s when I heard it. That distinct sound of gravel under tires. My only pathetically small chance of escape was rolling away. I didn’t even look back at the car to know that. I just stared at the man, and was about to say ‘f*** you,’ when he looked back to my car. I heard the sound of the car rolling, it was getting, closer? The guys eyes went from the driveway to behind me. I finally looked over my shoulder, my car had rolled backwards and had come to a smooth stop near the mailbox of the house. I looked back at the guy, who had a nervous look. He looked back at me and scowled again and took his hand from around his waist. He reached into his front pocket and took out twelve dollars and handed it to me. I gave him the pizza and watched him slam the door shut. I ran back to my car and practically tore the door off trying to get in. I looked back at the house, and the man was standing in front of the window staring out at me. You better believe I nearly spun the tires on my way out of there. I kept glancing at my mirrors until I started driving under street lights. It was easily the scariest moment I’ve ever had. As soon as I got back to the store I told my boss about it and she called the police. We never heard anything about it, I assume they went to the house and only found a small cheese pizza. I started carrying a knife on me at all times, and my boss is considering getting trackers for our pizza bags.

Only recently I realised this is a sort of butterfly effect. I thought it was the worse thing ever that my transmission went out, and I cursed Volkswagen for designing such a terrible automatic transmission. But if that transmission was still working, then I would have still had that car when this happened. I would have put the car in park and it would have sat there while whatever would have happened to me happened. I have zero doubts in my mind that that man was planning on murdering me. So shitty German engineering saved me from getting murdered.

Edit: I’m assuming that when my car began to roll, the guy assumed there was somebody inside (backing up to pick me up?). The engine wasn’t revving but if you’re about to murder a person you probably don’t focus on those details. Sorry for any confusion