Caesar’s Jaguar..
A TRIP TO ANCIENT ROME IN A TIME MACHINE..
John Moore could see the Jaguar’s gas gage was on empty and guessed he had about two or three gallons left to go some 30 miles.
Ancient Roman Civil Engineers took great pride in their road building.
The Appian Way was one of their crowning achievements and some of it still in use today however it was not built for a twentieth century 1963 Jaguar Sports Car traveling at sixty miles per hour over cobble stones and the ride was a bit rough.
The clock on the Jaguar dash board now reads twenty-three minutes left to make it to the time machine scanning spot or be stranded in ancient Rome, circa 79AD, forever.
The beautiful red Jaguar sports car began sputtering and coughing and now was running out of gas.
The engine had stopped, with car gliding to a stop about a half mile away from the time machine scanning field.
The Jaguar’s dashboard clocks now read 5:52am, the time machine would stop scanning at 6:00am.
John Moore had eight minutes left to reach the time machine scanning spot, or he would never see his 1963 San Francisco home again, he would be stranded in ancient Rome forever and John Moore knows only too well the brutality and turmoil of the eternal city that would await him.
John quickly explained the situation to Glacus, Ruth and Marianus and they ran as fast as they could to reach the time machine scanning spot.
Then suddenly, Marianus tripped on a clump of weeds, twisted her ankle and fell down.
John picked her up but she couldn’t walk.
They were still a hundred yards away from the time machine scanning spot and the seconds were ticking away.
John didn’t have a watch on him so he couldn’t tell how much time was left but he knew there were now only seconds remaining.
Seconds left to be going home to 1963 San Francisco or be stranded in Ancient Rome for the rest of his life.
He picked up Marianus in his arms and ran as fast as he could for the time machine scanning spot that was marked with a wooden, white tipped, stake John had driven into the ground upon arriving in Ancient Rome.
A shot of panic adrenalin went through John’s body; there was no white tipped stake where it was supposed to be.
He was in the wrong spot and now time surely had to be only seconds away from never seeing his 1963 San Francisco home again…
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CLICK ON HANK CURCI’S PICTURE..
END TRANSMISSION..
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