Gilbert's Goggles

The rain that had been threatening all afternoon came down in torrents while Gilbert was still out in the open. He was without either raincoat or umbrella and there were no awnings under which he could shelter. He pressed himself up against the wall of a shop, hoping he wouldn’t get too wet, but the drops, pounding against the pavement, splashed up onto his trousers. He decided he’d better get out of the rain or he would be saturated. He looked up, saw a shop with its doors open, and slipped inside.

Gilbert looked around to see what kind of shop he had entered. A gaudy kind of place, he thought, all tinsel and tack. The stock on the shelves was an eclectic mixture of old and new, quality and kitsch. It was a curiosity shop, but looked nothing like any he had ever seen. A big woman in a caftan dress of glaringly bright colours stood behind the counter cleaning her fingernails.

“Hello. Looks like you got blown in here on a lucky wind!” the woman quipped in a hoarse smoker’s voice, and laughed loudly. “I’ve got you until it lets up I reckon.”

Gilbert took off his glasses and smiled tentatively. Taking out his handkerchief, he proceeded to dry and polish the lenses. Replacing them on his nose, he ventured to match the woman’s humour.

“A captive clientele you might say,” he replied somewhat stiffly. “I hope this downpour doesn’t last too long. I have an appointment in . .” he consulted his watch, “. . precisely twelve minutes”.

“I don’t know if you’ll make that.” The woman smiled at Gilbert’s primness. “Why don’t you spend the time having a look around my shop while you’re stuck here? You never know what you might find.”

“Thank you madam, I will do that,” agreed Gilbert.

He looked around, thinking it extremely unlikely that he would find anything to his taste in this overblown establishment. However he moved down the aisles, inspecting the merchandise as he went. Suddenly, the drumming of rain on the roof eased, and it looked like Gilbert would be let out sooner than he’d expected. Not wanting to seem ungrateful for the courtesy the woman had shown him, and in spite of the distaste he felt for her and her shop, he decided to purchase something as a thank you. He picked up the nearest thing to hand and took it to the counter.

“I’ll take this madam,” he said, looking for the first time at the item he held. It was a worn pair of goggles with an adjustable leather strap. “How much do I owe you?”

The woman placed the goggles in a paper bag and handed it to him. As she took his money and provided change, she smiled.

“You’ll find those glasses most…” she hesitated, “…stimulating”. She smiled enigmatically. “They are old motoring goggles, the kind they wore when driving the first cars. I hope you enjoy them.”

Gilbert placed the bag containing the goggles in his briefcase. “Er, thank you madam, I will endeavour to do so.”

He left the shop as quickly as he could, thankful to make his escape. Outside, the rain had cleared, and he was able to get to his appointment on time.

That evening, after Gilbert had eaten, washed up his dishes and put them away, he sat down to write some reports for the office. Gilbert often brought work home. He was industrious and methodical, and liked to be sure all loose ends were tied up every day. His bosses took advantage of their employee’s industry, and made sure they got full value out of him. His colleagues too took advantage of Gilbert, asking him for advice on something they were too lazy to do, and in such a way that he would offer to do it for them. Sometimes Gilbert looked at himself and saw that he was being used, but then he would assure himself that he was just a valuable employee whose abilities were respected by those with whom he worked.

Gilbert now sat at his desk and opened his briefcase to take out the paperwork he needed. His boss needed the reports first thing in the morning. He pulled a paper bag out of his case and wondered for a second what on earth it was. Then he remembered the storm and the shop, and the goggles he’d purchased. He shivered in distaste and put the bag on the floor beside his chair, intending to throw it in the rubbish bin later. He had no intention of keeping an old, used item from that shop!

By ten o’clock, Gilbert was finished his work, and he packed everything away in his briefcase. When he pushed his chair back to stand up, it caught on something and he almost lost his balance. He looked down.

“Those darned goggles!” he muttered, and picked them up to take them to the bin. Then he hesitated. Gilbert, like many shy and non-physical men, had a secret admiration for those dare-devils who drove, flew, trekked or sailed into danger. These goggles were old, and perhaps they had been worn by a former racing car driver. He pulled them out of the paper bag and held them in his hand. The leather was soft, though cracked and worn, and the lenses were a little dirty, but not chipped at all. Gilbert took some tissues from a box and cleaned the glass. Then he did something that he later couldn’t explain, either to himself or to anyone else. He took off his own glasses and placed them on the kitchen table. He then pulled the old goggles over his head and adjusted them.

Immediately, Gilbert was transported to a place he did not know and into a situation that made his heart leap into his mouth. There was a roaring in his ears, and a smell that he could not immediately identify. He was being thrown up and down and sideways all at the same time, and was holding on to something with all his strength – a steering wheel!

He looked up, and realised he was looking through the windshield of an old motorcar. The car was racing along a poorly defined track at what seemed like breakneck speed.

Gilbert almost screamed, and ripped the goggles from his head. His heart was pounding and he was panting, shaking like a leaf. He flopped onto, rather than sat on the couch, and rubbed his almost nerveless hands over his face. What on earth had happened? He looked at the goggles that lay on the floor where he had thrown them. What were they? Where had they come from? How did they do that? He left the goggles where they lay, stood up, went to the glass cabinet, where he helped himself to a glass of the scotch whiskey he kept there for emergencies – something he rarely did.

He took his glass back to the couch and sat there, slowly sipping at it and staring at the goggles. He thought back to when he was at the shop. Why had he bought them? Why had he picked up the goggles instead of any of the other items that were on the shelves? He thought of the woman, and what she had said as he put the goggles into his briefcase. I hope you enjoy them. He hadn’t paid any attention to it at the time. He’d just wanted to get out of the shop. But now he thought about it, there seemed to have been something perhaps a little sinister behind her words.

He picked up the goggles and examined them closely. There didn’t seem to be anything unusual about them at all. He thought he would go and see his brother in his lunch break tomorrow and ask him to look at them. Albert was a collector of old cars, and loved to show them off. Gilbert had ridden in a couple of them and had felt an envy he had quickly squashed. His brother would know if the goggles were original and if there was anything unusual about them.

With this decision made, Gilbert placed the goggles into the paper bag, and the bag into his briefcase. When he went to bed, he found it difficult to go to sleep. His mind kept going back to the experience he’d had when he’d put on the goggles. He’d been scared; he couldn’t deny that. But he had also felt, for a brief moment, a wonderful sense of exhilaration such as he’d never felt before. He dwelt on it and savoured it, eventually dropping into a sound sleep.

When the time came for his lunch break the next day, Gilbert’s boss asked him to stay behind and finish a memorandum for him. He wanted to go and have dinner at his favourite restaurant. For the first time in his life, Gilbert said no. He told his boss he had an important engagement of his own, and would complete the memorandum when he returned from his break. His boss was dumbfounded, and he still hadn’t thought of a suitable reply when Gilbert set off to see his brother.

“Wow, Gilbert, where did you find these?” Albert exclaimed when Gilbert showed him the goggles. “They’re authentic pre-1920s driving goggles, these are!”

“Yes, they looked authentic to me too,” replied Gilbert. “I picked them up at a curiosity shop down-town. They are good ones aren’t they? Not unusual or different?”

He didn’t want to tell him what had happened, and when Albert assured him they were fine, Gilbert held out his hand for them. Albert didn’t want to give them back just yet though.

“I’ll see what they feel like on,” he said, and, before Gilbert could stop him, he had slipped the goggles over his head and was adjusting them onto a nose very similar to his brother’s. Gilbert held his breath, but nothing happened.

“They feel good,” said Albert. “I wouldn’t mind wearing these when I drive the old Model ‘A’ on a club outing. What do you want for them?”

Gilbert slowly exhaled, and waited until his heart returned to a regular rhythm before saying that he wanted to keep them himself, but that Albert could borrow them on club days if he liked. His brother thanked him, and Gilbert said he had to get back to work.

“I’ll come round and get them when we have our next outing,” said Albert, “and you can come with me and Grace if you like.”

Gilbert took his usual quota of work home with him that night. While he worked on it he kept looking at the goggles he’d placed on his desk. After he’d spent about an hour on the documents, he decided to see if the same thing happened when he put the goggles on as before. Maybe it had just been his imagination. Overwork. After all, nothing had happened to his brother. He pushed the paperwork aside and picked up the goggles. Even if it happened again it wouldn’t be as scary. He hadn’t known what would happen the first time. This time he would be ready.

He lifted the goggles to his head, then hesitated. He drew in a deep breath, set his mouth in a determined line, and slipped the goggles over his head. As soon as they were adjusted, Gilbert was returned to where he had been the previous night. His heart lurched, but, with a huge effort, he collected himself. He took a quick look beside him. He was alone. The car was careering along the road, as it had been before. He realised that he had to do something quickly, or he would crash. He took a firm grip on the steering wheel, just as a sharp bend loomed.

Gilbert wrenched the wheel over and somehow got the heavy car around the bend and straightened up again. While he had a moment, he settled himself more comfortably into the leather seat. With his foot on the accelerator pedal, and his hands on the steering wheel, Gilbert began to drive the old car, trying to keep it from sliding and overturning on the rough track.

The dirt road appeared to weave through a forest, with occasional open clearings. Gilbert could see dust in front of him, and thought there must be another car ahead. His heart was racing and his palms sweated, but he took a firmer grip on the wheel and pressed down on the accelerator, intent on catching whoever it was ahead of him.

When he became tired, and it looked like a straight stretch of road was coming up, Gilbert removed the goggles. He felt exhilarated. He looked at the clock, and estimated that he had been driving for about an hour; intense, fast driving, in a big, heavy and unfamiliar car. It was tiring. He wanted to continue, but knew he must get some sleep before tomorrow. After that it would be the weekend, and he could spend more time out driving. Gilbert went to bed happy, knowing that he had an exciting secret life, a life that no one would believe if he told them about it.

Gilbert drew up a roster for himself. He knew that he could easily become so engrossed in this wonderful new activity that the ordinary world would lose focus and meaning. He allowed himself one hour each evening, and three hours on Saturdays and Sundays. He worked as hard as usual at work, but he gradually decreased the amount of work he took home with him at nights. After all, he needed to have his driving activity early enough in the evening so that he would be able to settle down and sleep for the night.

Every time Gilbert donned his goggles and set off to race unseen adversaries in his old car, he gained more and more confidence in himself. His boss and his colleagues noticed a gradual change in him, and so did his brother, when they went out driving in Albert’s vintage cars. There was a new assurance in Gilbert, and he sometimes asked his brother if he could take one of his cars out driving by himself. Albert was surprised that Gilbert could drive at all, let alone handle a vintage car in original condition. At work, Gilbert began to advise his colleagues on how they could complete their ‘problem’ paperwork themselves, instead of doing it for them. His boss noticed that Gilbert was being treated by his colleagues with a new sense of respect, and gave him more responsible tasks to handle and other staff to oversee, along with an increase in salary.

As for Gilbert, his driving skills had developed considerably, and now he was wondering how he could find some real racing drivers to pit himself against.