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Some say that inanimate objects have a life of their own, and that on occasion they will move and change of their own accord. That is, of course, poppycock, as such objects have no central nervous systems or neural networks that could cause even the slightest movement. The theory is, for all intents and purposes, an invention of man to explain why the house keys aren’t where they ought to be, or how an errant pair of ladies undergarments were somehow misplaced in the backseat of a car.
However, objects do possess a memory. It would be impossible to conclude otherwise, as all beings place a great deal of meaning into even the most mundane of objects.
Take, for example, the humble pencil. An object that is meant to be used and abused and, eventually, when it has been sharpened to nothing, discarded. Such an object can be filled with the memories of students taking a test, a to-do list, or a mathematician solving a particularly complex proof. An object is never just an object, but is really a series of events and history that it is given by its keeper. These memories, whether intended or not, change the nature of the object for those who know its history.
Vehicles are no exception to this rule. Vehicles, since time immemorial, have been objects of utility. Perhaps they are loved or well-cared for, but they are also objects of work, meant to carry people, animals, and items across distances too great to be made on foot. While not as ephemeral as a pencil, they are workhorses and, at the end of their usefulness, are discarded for something that will once again fulfill the essential brief of what a vehicle is meant to be. In spite of, or perhaps because of this, vehicles have very deep memories, filled with journeys both fantastic and mundane.
The Bentley owned by the demon Crowley was no exception. Having spent decades in the care of Crowley, the Bentley was imbued with more memories than most other vehicles. It was rare for a car to have the same owner for almost a hundred years, seeing the world change through the same pair of eyes. Even more rare, it had seen itself made, fully unmade, and remade in a perfect replica of itself via miraculous intervention. A ship of Theseus in black paint and chrome.
The special ownership of the Bentley had given it memories that other cars only dreamed of. For instance, it had received the gift of song immediately after purchase in the form of a radio. Although other cars required complex batteries and equipment to have a functional radio, the Bentley, having no need for petrol or any other fuel source, received a small radio with no external power at all. The radio was upgraded and changed throughout the decades but, as if by some miracle, it was able to remember any song it had ever heard.
In addition to memories, many objects have what humans have taken to calling “quirks.” Quirks are most often seen in mechanical objects, and manifest themselves in a variety of different ways. The most noticeable of these being when a particular object ceases to work for its owner, but subsequently works beautifully the second it is brought in for repair. Many homeowners and tenants have experienced this particular quirk with ever-moody air conditioning units, especially during the hottest days of summer.
Crowley’s Bentley, having been on this planet for quite a long time, had developed a number of unique quirks. The most obvious of these involved the radio. While the Bentley could play any song or broadcast it had heard, it also had a tendency to play songs or radio programmes on repeat. For example, in January 1939, the Bentley played nothing but Orson Welles’s War of the Worlds radio broadcast. Quite a delight for Crowley, who although having played no part in the broadcast itself, successfully took credit for it with the folks downstairs after the fact.
The Bentley had, for many decades now, spent the better part of its time turning every cassette or CD it came into contact with into a different recording by Queen. This was, in part, an inside joke for the Bentley, who, along with Crowley, had taken quite a liking to Freddie Mercury when he was given a ride in 1978. The music of Queen also made for quite a good soundtrack for driving, especially at a great speed. And, since the Bentley did not prefer any of the other music Crowley brought into the car, everything eventually became one Queen recording or another. An endearing, albeit slightly annoying quirk.
In spite of its complex and rather exciting history, the Bentley knew very little of any beings other than the demon Crowley. Crowley was very reticent to allow most anyone to touch his car, let alone ride in it. This was due to a myriad of factors, the most important being that Crowley trusted no one with his precious car. He saw how others had treated their vehicles like playthings, seen them get into crashes or, Satan forbid, eat and drink in them. He would have none of that sort of behavior for the Bentley.
Of course, an exception was made for Aziraphale. The angel Aziraphale was the only being Crowley not only allowed to ride in the Bentley on a regular basis, but he was even allowed to drive it on one or two occasions. A rarefied honor, if ever there was one.
The Bentley immediately took to the angel driving it. Although it enjoyed being driven at top speed through the streets of London, it appreciated Aziraphale’s gentle and measured way of driving. The praise he gave to the Bentley when the engine started, combined with the gentle way his foot eased off the brakes and onto the throttle, let the Bentley know it was being taken care of. And while it had started playing Queen when Aziraphale turned on the car, it had no problem changing its tune to fit the angel’s wants, especially when he asked so nicely if the music could be changed. Aziraphale was a lovely change, and the Bentley looked forward to more trips with just the angel in the future.
It had been around six months since Aziraphale had returned from heaven when he requested the opportunity to drive the Bentley. Crowley was, of course, reticent. However given that the angel had asked so nicely, and he had taken such good care of the Bentley the last time (notwithstanding the miraculous color change he had given it), Crowley had no problem saying yes, especially since he was busy determining exactly where the new books Aziraphale was picking up would go in the increasingly full bookshop. He was surprised when Aziraphale re-entered the bookshop only ten minutes later with no books in hand.
“Crowley dear.” Aziraphale said quietly.
“Yes angel?” Crowley poked his head out from a stack of books in the back.
“Have you done anything to the car?”
“No. Why? Is something wrong with it? Did someone scratch it overnight?” Crowley raised his eyebrow.
“No dear, nothing like that.”
“Because I would know if someone did something like that and there would be consequencesss… ”
“No one has damaged the Bentley dear.”
“Well then what is the issue? Doesn’t need gas, doesn’t need a tune-up, never has.”
“The Bentley is running fine darling, it’s just…”
“ Well ?”
“Have you changed the music?”
“No, still only plays Queen. Well. Sometimes it plays classical , but only when you’re in it.”
“Are you sure ?”
“What is the car playing Aziraphale?”
“Well I mean did Queen ever have a disco phase?”
“ What is the Bentley playing Aziraphale? ”
“Oh Crowley, you know I don’t know any musicians from after 1910.”
“Well, what does it sound like.”
“It was two women, and they were singing such a sad song. Or well, it sounded happy, and I didn’t mind that so much, but then the lyrics became so sad and, dare I say it, personal. ”
“Well what were they?”
“I think it’s better if you hear it for yourself.”
Crowley set down the books he was holding and walked towards the Angel. “If anything has happened to that car I swear …”
“Nothing has happened to it! Honestly, I did everything the same as I did last time.”
They walked to the car, and Aziraphale opened the passenger side door for Crowley. Crowley got in. He couldn’t remember the last time he had sat in the passenger’s seat. It was nice, although he much preferred being behind the wheel.
Aziraphale got in the driver’s seat, and gingerly turned on the car. It protested, then out of the speakers came the familiar sounds of Queen. Crowley turned his head and stared at the angel.
“I swear this is not what it was playing!”
“Aziraphale…”
“Really! It was playing something totally different.”
“Well it’s not playing that now.”
“Can’t you tell it to play, well, something else?”
Crowley sighed “If you thought I could control what this car plays, don’t you think I’d play something other than Queen every time I got in?”
“Well how do I stop it?”
“That is something you are going to have to work out with the Bentley.”
“You can’t do anything? I don’t want to hear that song again. It was too personal.”
“Really angel the car can’t be playing anything that awful.”
“But it was . I mean, ‘Look into his angel eyes. One look and you're hypnotized. He'll take your heart and you must pay the price?’ How is that not personal??”
Crowley stared at him. He had heard that song before, was all over that blasted Tik Tok site Maggie had shown him a few months back. He hadn’t paid much attention to the lyrics, what with the song being sped up and all that. But when Maggie played the record for him at her shop later, he couldn’t help but feel nauseous listening to the women sing their tune about being spurned by an angel-eyed lover.
Crowley’s eyes softened. “Sounds like the Bentley isn’t too pleased with you angel.”
“Well I mean obviously dear, but how do I stop it?”
“Sounds like you owe the Bentley an apology.” Crowley gently took Aziraphale’s hand and brought it to his lips. “You did say this was our car, and you left it just as much as you left me.”
Aziraphale’s eyes widened. He hadn’t even thought to apologize to the Bentley. It must have had quite a time with Crowley after he left.
Crowley leaned in and kissed Aziraphale. “It’ll forgive you. May take some time, but it’ll forgive you.”
Aziraphale blushed. He was still getting used to his casual intimacy with Crowley.
“Okay dear. I’ll try.” Aziraphale smiled. Crowley smiled and got out of the car.
“I’ll leave you to it angel. Don’t go out and get any more books than intended. Still trying to figure out where these new ones will go.”
“I know you’ll find space, even if I do.”
Crowley sauntered back into the bookshop. The second the door shut, the music changed to ABBA, and the Bentley’s engine stopped.
Aziraphale quickly inhaled as he let the lyrics wash over him. “Sometimes when I'm lonely, I sit and think about him/And it hurts to remember all the good times/When I thought I could never live without him.” Aziraphale was eternally grateful that Crowley had been so quick to forgive him. He didn’t think he deserved it, but he was so glad that Crowley forgave him anyway. The Bentley was such an important part of Crowley’s life, it was no wonder it was so protective of its master.
Aziraphale gently placed his hands on the wheel. “I’m sorry. It must have been dreadful to feel all of that sadness from Crowley because of me. And after we had had such a nice time driving to Edinburg. You didn’t deserve that. You’ve always been such a good car, taking me places, allowing me to place travel sweets in the little bowl next to the wheel. If it is any consolation, I never intend to leave Crowley again. Never should have left in the first place.” Aziraphale smiled “He is so kind to you, and I promise I will always be kind too.”
Aziraphale sat quietly as the Bentley continued to play the song. Slowly, the song started to stutter and morph. Aziraphale smiled as the familiar sound of the Danae Macabre by Camille Saint Saens. Aziraphale smiled.
“Thank you. I’m so sorry, and I promise I’ll do better than the last time I drove you through London.” The Bentley roared in appreciation as Aziraphale turned the key.