CalTrans

"CalTrans!" was an interactive email novel, started in 1992 and finished (kind of...) in 1993. It told the somewhat scattered tale of Orange-vested highway worker Fred C. Trans, and his trials and tribulations in the pursuit of daily work avoidance. Below is an example of one "epidose."

dun DUN dun DUN dun DUN dun DUN dun DUN dun DUN dun DUN... CAL!! TRANS!!!

Fred maneuvered the flying van into a nifty barrel roll high above the Golden Gate, to keep Candy from bailing while he stalled for time. It's an old familiar story, he thought: Crusty road-workin guy meets young voluptuous girl, guy salivates, girl reciprocates, girl cleans house, guy meets professional football team cheerleading squad, girl gets irked, guy's van flies, girl tries to parachute out. How many movies had he seen with the exact same plot? The problem was, he couldn't for the life of him remember how it was supposed to end...

The new Chet Atkins and Mark Knopfler CD "Neck and Neck" was spinning in the player - a wonderful piece of fluff, this, with some beautiful guitar work by both players. A homey, comfortable, relaxed album.

The deluxe screamer, suddenly, sputtered and almost stalled. They lost about 75 feet of altitude in a few seconds, which caused a plethora of squeals and shrieks from the cheerleaders in the rear. As Fred managed to right the craft, a stupendous cheer arose: "Rah, rah, sis boom bah," they yelled. He flushed with pride, then attempted to radio Screamer Support.

"Tar, macadam, asphalt, dirt, concrete...?"

"This here Screamer par Excellence just spluttered and nearly killed a whole bunch of us!"

"If you want to report a bug, you'll need to send us a fax."

"Arrghh!"

"You may wish to try our 900 number for immediate support..."

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They scanned for a filling station, but it was hard to tell from up here. They eventually managed to touch down on Divisadero in the heart of the Fillmore district. Fred stopped the first passer-by he saw. He was a person of color of indeterminate age, wearing extremely baggy shorts that came down to his ankles. His hair was partially shaved with what appeared to be sergeant's chevrons on each side, and a four-inch-tall black cube of hair on top. He carried what looked like twenty or thirty pounds of gold jewelry, including an enormous gold clock, around his neck, and though he progressed forward as he walked, his legs appeared to be moving backward. He towed behind him a sizable stereo which could hardly be advertised as "portable". From it, strange sounds were emitted, at such volume that Fred's own hair was parted radically on the left side right above his ear...

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"Ess Bee Teee Technical support!
which o'de programs you be callin fo'
AP JC GL Pro?
Gimme yo' customer numbah if'n you know!
Unix Xenix Macintosh DOS
whut's de enviro'mentcha runnin in boss?
Whatcha got foxbase, dbase clipper -
Files open slower than a rusty old zipper?
Get in yo' company Utilities next
slap me a one and reindex
(shoopshoop vztzt!) Re! In! Dex-ex-ex! (vzzt! vzzt!) Re In Dex!

Can't print de checks? Huh! What do it say?
Ampersand em zero cee aitch cee kay?
Well cancel and quit 'n' type dee eye arr
space - don't hit Enter! Pee arr star dot star-
slash pee! Do ya see any FXPs
or do they be FOXes or PRGs?
Ya got ol' programs; if ya register dis
Maybe I'll send out replacement disks
(Zzzt! Vdzzt!) Replacement Disks!

Tryinta close de period 'n' whaddaya know
String memory variable area o ver flow!
I tellya exackly what yo' problem is
it's de MVCOUNT an' de MVARSIZ!!
dey gots to be 20 'an 384
else y'cain't use dat program no mo'!
An ya hadda crash out, man ain't that a drag!
Now ya gonna hafta go & do sysflag
(vzvzt! Vztzzt!) DO SYSFLAG! (shoop! shoop!) DO SYSFLAG!

----------------------

Fred, having seen someone like this on TV before, attempted to communicate.

"Ay, home! What do it be?"

The fellow looked at him quizzically.

"I mean, uh, what it fo'? Me an' the ladies here, we be lookin to fill up the ride, here, er. Li'l red needle be pointin at the 'E', y'know, it's a bummer, yeh!"

The fellow looked him in the eye and spoke. "You got a problem, man?"

Candy managed to speak thru a crack in the window, "yeh, he does. We're trying to find a GAS station!"

"Oh! Huh! Right over there, dude! Hope you get that speech impediment fixed, heh!"

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WILL the story ever end!!!??? WHY?!?!?!?! WHERE is that old good time feeling we once knew?!?!? HOW can this continue?!?! Tune in whenever, whatever, for the NEXT fun-thrilled epidose of...

CAL!!!! TRANS!!!!!!

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