Going up

Is it possible that somewhere in the real world there exists a machine which is the equivalent of the sinister 'Christine',  Stephen King's demonically possessed '58 Plymouth Fury?

It's possible all right, and it has taken the form of the lift at our office. In all the years I have worked there, the lift has functioned properly for about 2 and a half days in total. It is a foul malodorous little metal coffin that jerks and shudders its way between the floors, refusing to ever stop on the same level as the floor outside when the doors reluctantly open to release you.

When travelling in it you must adopt the stance of a surfer to ride out the violent heaving motions. Upon emerging, expect to spend a few minutes wobbling around on the sea legs you acquired during the journey to the second floor. It's slow and noisy and people get trapped inside it on a regular basis. On one memorable occasion, the doors had to be pried open to release the victims it had ensnared inside its steel maw. I have even been stuck inside it during a (mercifully brief) power cut.

The funny thing is that in spite of all this, everyone keeps on using the lift. You stagger out after the latest near-death experience vowing never to set foot in it again, but sooner or later it just seems like too much effort to toil back up the stairs after lunch. So you summon Christine. I just wouldn't use her at 6pm on a friday evening when the building is empty. She hasn't killed yet, but it's surely just a matter of time.

Wanna go for a ride?