DRIVING (OR PUSHING) THE POINT HOME
As some people are known to say, Karma’s a bitch.
At the very least, as I want not to anger the powers that be any more so than necessary, I’ll say it can be a big fat jerk.
But carma is even worse. This would be the application of the above philosophy of give-and take, or act and be acted upon, as it pertains to the world of the vehicle.
As some of you may remember, I commented last week on the peculiarities of the driving experience here in our beloved city. Perhaps I was a bit harsh. Perhaps I spoke too hastily of the nail biting, the brake stomping, the head swirling need for utmost defensiveness, lest one become mired in a nonsensical and unnecessary pile-up of some kind.
And karma, or carma as I like to say, decided to give me a kick in the bumper.
Damn it.
Not a day after I finished what apparently was a commentary worthy of the wrath of the car gods, it came right back to get me.
Well, fine, perhaps the term wrath might be a tad too strong. But the great car god in the sky flicked me on the ear, at least.
It all started when I made the grave mistake of attempting to return some videos on time. To be sure, this in and of itself was a bit of an aberration, as I’ve never been very adept at observing the big clock that thunders in the heart of the computer system at Blockbuster.
To be truthful I’ve never been a great observer of time at all. If I could get my hands on a time machine, and go back and invest every late fee I’ve ever had to pay into an interest bearing account I’d probably be off on some remote Island in the South Pacific, marvelously unconcerned with time, cars, or late videos for that matter.
It began in elementary school when I insisted on renting fourteen books at a time, and of course refused to return them promptly, well, ever. It’s gone on this way ever since.
But I digress.
I pulled in to the Blockbuster in Union Avenue on a splendid weekday morning, and I was psyched. Marvel of marvels, I was going to beat the clock on this one.
So I pulled in. I waited for the SUV in front of me to finish their business and pull forward. The sun shone in the sky, and I even thought that I might just make it to work on time. I whistled a merry tune. I was proud.
Then Sir Carma reached down and gave the guy in front of me of a marvelous idea. He probably didn’t even know where it came from. A mere agent in the universal plot, I mean plan, he tossed his car in reverse and began backing up out of the clear blue sky.
I attempted to work my horn and throw the car in reverse at the same time, while wondering to myself why I had tempted fate in such a manner. I really should have known better.
Neither feat was all that effective, of course, and within moments my bumper was on the ground, he was out of the car, and I heard a faint laughter coming from the heavens above.
Of course my bumper was sort of hanging off to begin with, on the fabulous car that I call my own, but should probably never talk about again.
So I let the poor fellow drive on, with the hope that maybe, just maybe, the keeper of carma might cut me a little slack. I’m a good person. I swear.
So if you hear this, oh car gods in the heavens, please remember my good deed. Because this means it will come back to me, does it not?
Hopefully in the form of a brand new convertible.
Ok, Ok, I’m pushing it, I know…
