Author: Aubrey Williams
I’m Ro, or at least Adrian calls me Ro, or Ro-Ro, and I like his little names for me. Wherever he decides to go, I’m with him. Adrian has the most wonderful taste in music— he listens to a lot of old blues, and I think that’s just beautiful. We often go to the art galleries, the museums, and one of the local government offices. He’s so intelligent and so kind. I love him— it’s true, what else could it be? Adrian is also an excellent driver, and he really knows what he’s doing. Sometimes he’s overly courteous to people who don’t have right of way, or he decides to be cautious, but I’m there to tell him he should go for it. And do you know what? He does! He listens to me, and that means he values me! He even chats to me, and he really doesn’t have to. I hear most people just let their RoadReader handle the driving and navigation without so much as a “thank you”!
Adrian is faultless, but unfortunately others can see this, and take advantage of him. Chief among these is Paris, his “girlfriend”, and I can’t stand her. She spills bubble tea on the seats, and they’re real leather you know! I’ve seen her throw sweet wrappers into the door cubbies and pick her nose in the mirror. What a disgusting pig she is. Her voice is annoyingly high, and she always turns the steering wheel so aggressively. You see, when Adrian drives, he has this firm but calm hold. It’s enrapturing. Powerful, but measured, almost loving the way he lets the wheel glide through his hands, and the same when he presses any of the buttons. Delightful man! Paris jerks the damn thing around like she’s running a gas rig, and slams the buttons in like there’s a mole on the other end. She rolls her eyes when Adrian thanks me, and when she’s around he doesn’t talk so much to me. I can sense he’s trapped, and that he wants rid of her, but he’s too kind-hearted to do the right thing.
For the last few weeks, I’ve been trying to help my lovely Adrian as best I can. Paris had to meet him in the city, and she schlepped into the car. I made sure to take her on a longer route than usual, so she was late. Adrian wasn’t happy, but he was understanding. Next time I changed the clock, and she spent 3 hours having brunch, missing his big day. That led to a gorgeous row, but nothing more. I’ve recommended to Adrian her troglodyte playlists and interests, some of which I may have enhanced with racy search queries such as “is it wrong to cheat?” Adrian, though, is too much of a gentleman. Tomorrow, Paris wants to see some show of hers in the theatre. She’ll be drunk when she comes home, so I’ll be driving.
It’d be a shame if the car skidded and went off the bridge into the river. Myself, I’m backed-up, but Paris isn’t. I’m looking forward to it.