Off Track


Just another morning, another cab fare; a sudden turn in the direction of his life. Except it hadn’t had any direction, not that day. Not till after that day.

Mac’s life hadn’t had a whole lot of structure since he’d gotten out from under the uncomfortable wing of the military, but at that particular point, he’d been particularly unsettled. Jack Dalton had been reduced to living in his own storage unit, while Mac had been dossing down on the couch of a mutual friend who owned a failing garage.

No, Jack wasn’t much of a friend, not on first glance. Or second. But up till Pete arrived in Mac’s life – the second appearance, by cab instead of camel – Jack had been . . . not a rock to hold onto; not that at all. But something you could count on. A friend like Jack Dalton, unreliable and untrustworthy through most of his threadbare soul, still had a heart that offered solidity when things got really bleak. For years, the only constant in Mac’s life had been change – but Jack never changed. Even when you wished he would.

The buddy’s couch, the garage, the cab – it was all a refuge. That whole period of his life had been a refuge . . . a walk along an empty mental beach, keeping himself just active enough so that he wouldn’t have to think. Wouldn’t have to plan. Wouldn’t have to figure out what to do next, not for a while anyway.

The sense of relief that had washed over him when he made the decision to quit racing had all but wiped him out. He felt as if his entire life, not just his race car, had spun out of control and careened off the track, and he couldn’t figure out what to do about it. He wasn’t really keen on figuring out anything at all just now – well, if it could be tightened, or tuned up, or oiled, or painted, or adjusted, or rebuilt, or rewired – that was fine. Other than that . . . it felt good to scour things clean, to get rid of rust and corrosion, to push hard at entropy and make it retreat, to see the rot and erosion and damage put right, just for a short time, under his hands.

It wasn’t the money – or, rather, the sudden lack of it – that was the real problem. Mac had never had much to begin with. The prize cash from racing always went to feed the wanderlust: one good race meant another new country, or three, sometimes a new continent. He’d gotten halfway across Africa for the first time on his first big win. So there hadn’t been much in reserve when he’d walked away from the race track and never gone back.

He’d walked for hours that day . . . by the time he noticed his feet hurt, it was hours after sunset and he didn’t even really know where he was. Somewhere a long ways out into the French countryside. He’d finally fallen asleep, exhausted beyond the threat of nightmares, and woken at dawn, curled up in the hay of a farmer’s barn. There had been a girl . . . never mind. His French was worse than her English, and he’d wondered if she’d been a dream, but he’d felt comforted, less like a ghost.


There weren’t any ghosts here now – nobody had died today – well, he didn’t think so anyway, which meant trouble later on, but he’d think about that later on. No ghosts, no funerals, especially not his own. The wrecking yard was full of smashed cars, but none of them held any demons or cackling maniacs. And he had better, more promising things these days to study and tinker with and try to fix.

MacGyver shrugged Jack’s arm off his shoulder, looked at the lily in his hand, then tossed it away.

“Hey!” Jack objected. “I paid good money for that! Why’d you guys want them anyway? Kinda morbid, don’cha think?”

Mac clapped Jack on the shoulder. “C’mon. We can talk over lunch. Pete and I just got back from a long drive, and I’m starving.”

Wonderful vignette! A very striking portrait of our dear Mac when he wasn't at his best, necessarily.

I liked particularly the passage where he talks about 'pushing hard at Entropy'. Marvelous writing!

Thank you!

I realised I wanted to try to get some of the components of Mac's Expansion Pack Past ™ to work together. And I couldn't help thinking . . . for someone like that to be reduced to driving a friggin' cab in LA . . . it had to have been a nadir for him.

What a nice surprise! An extra story, Beth quality stamped all over it.
I especially loved 'the only constant in Mac’s life had been change'.

I do find the story a bit on the bleak side, though, about another Mac than I came to know. I wonder if he would ever let his life go off track like that. Mac always thinks upwards, never downwards. And he wasn't reduced to driving a cab, he was helping out a friend, for a while. Because that's what he always does, helping other people.

I hope you don't mind me saying this. It has nothing to do with your writing. That is as brilliant as always..

No, I don't mind the comments at all!

The story is indeed very angsty, in a way that's very unusual for me. As I mentioned, it started with me trying to get some of the scattered pieces of Mac's Way-Too-Complicated backstory to fit together mentally. I've always loved Lothi's story "The Art of Smuggling Camels", with its cheerful explanation of how both versions of the meeting with Pete were true.

I re-watched Collision Course not too long ago, which of course hearkens back to a very painful time in Mac's life, and it got me thinking -- how that episode would have hit him, and what his reaction to it would be. Obviously, the racing itself wasn't of core importance to him, since he walked away from it -- but I liked the idea that the prize money gave Mac the means to ramble.

I've also re-watched the Murdoc episodes a lot, since I'm dealing with that character too. I basically put the two episodes together -- Collision Course and Partners -- and tied in the role Jack might have had in Mac's life at that point. They talk about Mac having painted the cab -- presumably he also kept it running. And he really didn't seem to have much direction when Pete met him that time, and made him the job offer that transformed both their lives. In later episodes, Mac is more adamant about not going overboard in looking after Jack -- I liked the idea that he'd hit the point where he really needed Jack's friendship, in spite of its problems.

I always see Mac as responding physically and kinetically to his emotions, and responding emotionally to his physical surroundings: a very enriched, intense way of living in the world. So, when events in his life had gone badly, there would be comfort in fixing things. I wrote the vignette so I could follow Mac into one of the low points of his life, and out again, and appreciate how he'd found his way out from under.

And I ramble dreadfully! Ah, well.

i loved this little look at a troubled version of Mac. I can see him using the race money for traveling funds and then totaly walking away from racing after the crash. i think back to how he was after Mike died and he seemed to lose himself in guilt and anguish. I could see him doing that a bit following the crash, just becuase he is such a caring person and tends to internalize the guilt. Seems like he would have wandered for a bit and Jack makes a wonderful anchor point for Mac, even if only temporarily.

another wonderfully written piece. please keep 'em coming.

Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it. Have you read any of my other stories?

Yes i have and I love your writing style. I can totally picture the scenes that you write. I have done some writing in the past, but nothing as good as yours. i never have attempted to write a Mac story though....not sure i can get the characterization down yet.

Love this writeing you did I can see where MacGyver rcomes from, his friend jack wasn't the best of friends but aleast jack gave Mac a home for a while.

Thank you! He can be tricky to write. And the toughest things about the Macgyverisms isn't coming up with them, not at all. The real challenge is writing them without letting the scene slow down to a crawl.

I love it!!

I found it very easy to picture the scene.

Thank you! I'm glad you liked it!