Lenten Season

It all started on Ash Wednesday morning. I did one of my usual polls on Facebook that morning. It was an open poll which is rare, since I usually do multiple choices. I usually do these little polls as my way of saying "hi" to my Facebook friends as well as doing an across the board reality check; myself mainly included. I have a curious mind and sometimes I like to see the similarities of what is on other peoples' minds and see if it's compatible with my own thoughts. Since it was Ash Wednesday, I asked my friends (whether they are Catechists or not) what would they give up for Lent. I had several answers, one answered "superstitions" which kinda stood out with the usual answers whether it had something to do with food and others. I really had no idea what I was going to give up for Lent this year-- and being known as "Mr. Catholic" in my rednecky neighborhood in North Carolina, I had to make a good answer. I don't know if I had an answer to my own question or I didn't even answer to it other than "I won't eat meat on Friday" or something close. In a way, I was looking for an answer for the next forty days and forty nights until Easter Sunday. Yet, the answer to my question came to me that Ash Wednesday night...when I was least expecting it!

I am sure most of you read about my car wreck in which I lost the true love of my life, a 1997 Toyota Corolla which took me to my job and back without incident. When I lost the car, I was stuck most of the time either waiting for one thing or the other. The cycle started when I waited for a rental that the other guy's insurance company furnished me with for the next week and a half. A short time later, I waited for my claim check which would cover the cost for a replacement car. Since I had limited time, I can only find what I can get. Even though I now had money to cover anything that came my way, it didn't last for long about as long as the short time I had to find a car. To start off with, the pickings were slim--practically anorexic! In all the searches in the scant four days and a decent amount of settlement money in the bank (and creditors LOVE it when you have money in the bank, and strangely enough, the mysteriously KNOW you have money in the bank!), I came up with a 1984 Toyota Corolla. For a 30 year old car, it looked good AND it had better gas mileage with a Lincoln Town Car which was the other car I could find that was on sale. There was a Buick in the mix, but I found out that the Buick was two years older and I later discovered that the miles were rolled back! So I ended up buying the 28 year old car trusting it in "good faith" with the guy who sold me the car. Good faith can only go so far, especially when it stalls every few miles.

Make a long story shorter, which is hard, the gas tank needed to be taken out and cleaned out. Enter the theme song of this story which is Tom Petty's "The Waiting (Is The Hardest Part)". And in the first chords of Mike Campbell's opening guitar riff with Benmont Tench's organ wafting from the background, the waiting began before Tom's howling vocals and his 12 string guitar scratches. My waiting has no musical flourishes, after 6 mechanics and nearly two grand pissed away from buying the car and the repairs involved, the waiting was the easiest part it was all the other crap I had to endure like missing two weeks of work and the endless bantering of my roommate and co-workers. It wasn't that it was a lemon, it was someone's mistake-- somebody decided to spray liner in the gas tank and forgot to clean the tank out, hence the fuel line was all clogged up. When the car was finally "fixed", little did I know was that a new problem arose. I was told to fill up the car "easy"-- this was my introduction to 'Gas Tank 101', this when I learned immediately about gas tanks and other parts of the car. For example; did you know that the part of the tank that you fill the gas in is called the "filler spout" and there is a rubber hose that runs from the "filler spout" and the gas tank itself? Well, I was introduced to this information when a tsunami of GAS came out of the side of the car when I was trying to fill it up! I was "easy" but little I knew about this hose (I always thought it was one solid piece) and little the mechanics knew about the tear in this hose. And when I went to auto parts stores; I started with the one that rhymes with "Schmadvance Auto Parts", they looked at me I had a horn growing out of my head. I had a fellow customer at "Schmadvance" telling me to sue the guy who fixed the car, and the guy who sold me the car...it came to the point that I was going to sue the guy at "Scmadvance" who was telling me to sue everybody else for making the situation even more shittier than it is. Before you can say "Judge Judy" however, another auto parts store (rhymes with Schmo'Reilly" for possible future reference) said that they had I was looking for but now I have to wait until this coming Tuesday to have this part put in since the mechanic is taking of until then from his Easter break. Again, I live in the rednecky part of the country since this is the "Bible Belt" and the mechanic is about 30 miles away from me which is still pretty much considered "nearby" where I live. Hopefully, like the closing bass line from Ron Blair and Tom Petty's last "whoa-whoa-whoa" of  the "...Waiting..." song, hopefully "... the hardest part..." will be over very soon and hopefully "...everyday..." I'll have "...one more start" to a halfway decent future after the 40 plus days of Hell I had to endure!

And now this story ends today on Easter Sunday, the end of Lenten Season; the forty day and night period that Catechist Christians like us Catholics, as well as Episcopalians, Lutherans, and other similar religions observe. Part of Lenten Season is to reflect on what you gave up for "pennance" or the one thing that we had to give up for Lent. "Pennance" is pretty much a kind word for "punishment" which us Catholics kinda do to ourselves anyways, but it's a little more than that. Now before some of you out there think I'm chasing "the Flying Spaghetti Monster", which is kinda funny because my religion is based in Rome, it's not about religion for me. I am a member of the community since my church is part of it and I am more of a "community member" than a "church member". It's not about "Papal" but "people", and it's more about what I can put on my resume than what I read in the Bible (which is both equal to me to aid my survival in this modern day life). In this scheme of how I see things as a Catholic and a human being, I want to know is what I learned from Lent.

I was talking to a good friend of mine after Easter Mass this morning about the "car situation" he is gracious and kind enough to lend me his vehicle for the past few weeks to make up some lost time and lost money. I am eternally grateful to him and another friend who recommended me to the 6th mechanic who finally fixed my car "right" and will hopefully complete the job this Tuesday once I get the hose from "Schmo'Reilly's Auto Parts". Me and my friend (who knows my situation well) segued into Lent and I asked my friend if there was something that I can learn from my "instant pennance". He paused for one second and then said..."It's NOT you, it's THEM!". Really, it's not what I learned but what OTHER people SHOULD learn! The ones who should pay for the sins are the previous 5 mechanics, the guy who sold me the car, the know-it-all lawsuit happy customer at "Schmadvance", and my nosy roommate (and nosier co-workers).It's like that line that I gave to my ex-girlfriend "It's not YOU it's ME!", except in this situation I didn't stalk myself when I was taking a bath or bringing in a suitcase and saying over and over again "it's only my laundry!" (my ex was nuts).  But my friend is right, I shouldn't blame myself for what happened nor should I learn from my mistakes even though it was never my mistake to start off with. It's human nature to blame yourself in most situations, we are all privvy to it. But, I never asked to be rearended, I never asked myself to play "buy a $2000 car in four days", I never really ask for anything-- I always tried to do it on my own. Maybe God is trying to tell me to "screw everybody else's opinions" and for once I should try to stop giving a crap to other people's lip service! It's not me to pay the pennance simply because I am not the "sinner" in this situation! I should be grateful for the true friends who have my back and understand and hope karma gets even to those who rather talk about "being" a friend! Until then, I am going to wait for that one last part-- a rubber hose that will cost $25. After that, I will not wait for other people's feedback and if I want results, I'll make my own results! The one thing I learned from Lent I should not be "the patient one" anyone; perhaps it's time for some of the people I deal with should learn a little patience for once! I would like to end this blog with a better closing hook, but Tom Petty always has the best ones in his songs!

In Loving Memory of Bluey

I lost a dear family member last night, at least she was like a member of the family. She was like a friend, a dear friend, to me. I remember her smile, at least it looked like a smile. And to be honest, I don't know if it was a "she". I mean, I dunno what a "she" would have-- it didn't have an Adam's apple then again it did not have breasts and I seen others like "her" and they had more curves. Then again, a four door sedan would count as a "she" would it?

But that's who Bluey was, a midnight blue 1997 Toyota Corolla. I was actually thinking of calling it "Adam Corolla" but that would be kinda corny wouldn't it? Plus, it did not make any sarcastic remarks like Adam Corolla does but I could swear that I had a 1977 Plymouth Volare that was on the snarky side! Bluey was her own person...okay... if she was a person. And before you think I am completely nuts, that's because the most of you that know me can actually TESTIFY that I am nuts anyway, I actually named most of my cars. My first car, a 1975 Plymouth Fury, was called "The Great Pumpkin" because it was dark orange and it was friggin huge. Then I later had "Ol' Yeller" who was a 1979 Chevy Chevette, it was known as "pissy" both because it was bright yellow. Since it was a Chevy Chevette and it WAS yellow, it had another name...LEMON. Then again I had my first ...eh... y'know...I also had my first dump by a girlfriend later on with that car. That's when I had my 1979 Camaro... I drive slow as a slug I admit (that's because I DRIVE THE FRIGGIN SPEED LIMIT) but it was a cool looking car and it was a great touring car -- the highway mileage was actually good even though there is one "actual" highway in Long Island that you can do actual "highway mileage" on! I called my Camaro several names, "The Chick Magnet" (even though I did not get a girlfriend with that car), and "Betsy". I left my Camaro back with my Long Island roots to go to grad school in Buffalo. I was carless in Buffalo  until I got my first "real" job-- enter Mrs. Goldberg. Mrs. Goldberg was a 1987 Ford Tempo, who kinda reminded me of an old Jewish woman; she complained now and then, but she had a warm heart and was very reliable (minus the brisket). I had a few cars after that. When I moved to North Carolina, I had a few cars but I was barren of a car with personality but enter Mrs. Goldfarb. Mrs. Goldfarb was a 1991 Ford Tempo which meant it was Mrs. Goldberg's cousin and it had that nice friendly disposition for a Goyim driver like me. After a couple of years with Mrs. Goldfarb, I had a Buick... a 1998 Century to be exact. The Buick was a sequel to my Camaro like Mrs. Goldfarb (which I later sold for $50 to a demolition derby driver) was a sequel to Mrs. Goldberg. My Buick, whom I dubbed "The White Knight" was like a chick magnet and had all the bells and whistles. I had "The White Knight" for a couple of years, then the gas prices went up, and so did the miles-- about 230,000 to be exact. The "White Knight" had fallen deathly ill, blown head gasket. I did my goodbyes. And then came Bluey.

Bluey's story is different from the others. The fate on how I had Bluey was different. I had a weekend job in which I took care of a severly disabled boy. My Buick died when I was driving back from the boy's family. The grandfather seen my fate and had a car that his father owned. The father got sick and eventually gave it to my client's grandfather. There was attachment with my client's grandfather but knew I would take care of her. She was a big dividend in the era of high gas prices, around 30 to the gallon. Bluey was special, the situation was special, it was like a blessing from a loving family. Fate also twisted it's way in our relationship as it began. It began with the death of my Buick and later my client's great grandfather--the original owner of Bluey died. And later, my client died several months later during my shift. Bluey was about as fateful as he was faithful. She always started, never stalled. Aside for a flat tire, I was never stranded, even though I was only "stranded" for a half an hour, until the tow truck operator changed my tire. Bluey was the perfect car for me...she became the best car I had ever owned!

Fate sometimes comes back to visit, but we know that fate can be a vengeful beast! Last night, on Ash Wednesday, I was running an errand. Other than an impending storm in the background, it was an average night. I slowly came to a stop with a pickup truck ahead of me, plenty of room to stop for me. Then I heard a deathly howl from the Hell Hound itself ... okay, it was a loud screech from a Ford coming from behind me. Then came the "and then...BANG!" part of the story and the "my whole life became a flash before my eyes" part quickly followed in a millisecond, which was about the time I blacked out. The deploying airbags awoke me from my half second slumber. And then the Ford pushed me into the back of the pickup that was ahead of me. The impact was so great that when I with the pickup truck's back gate dropped and crushed Bluey's hood. Like a bad Oliver Stone movie, the silence fell and there was wisps of smoke dancing around the scene. I was a little bruised here and there, and I had an inkling that I will have that "You'll feel THAT in the morning!" experience (and BOYYYY that's true!). However, I was more concerned about the fate of Bluey which I know wasn't good from the impacts I felt! I examined the carnage-- Bluey's headlights were hanging down like a loved one's eyes closing for the last time. My car was totalled-- my life was gone-- I drive 75 miles a day working with disabled clients, and I cherish those 75 miles. I remember driving those miles with Bluey like it was holding hands with a girlfriend in a committed relationship, but I actually did not do anything (this time), but instead of a douchebag she had a crush on or a secret lesbian lover (and both ACTUALLY happened to me!) she left me for Fate. I'm sure she had time to say "I love you" before she had gone... at least she started when I pulled her off the road even though the whole rear end dragged with the trunk up ten feet in the air. But I heard the last hum of Bluey as she was pulled onto the tow truck. As the tow truck driver said my car was pretty much totalled, the asshat who drove the Ford was given a breathilyzer test, he wasn't drunk but he had a suspended license. Luckily, the asshat had insurance on the car even though it wasn't his car. So as I was leaving, the North Carolina State Trooper was apologizing for my loss, and then added with his cool Southern twang "Dang, he got you good! I wish I could I arrest him but I can't!" So at least, I was not at fault, which I was always paranoid of-- but paranoia is a pall bearer in this funeral. As I stepped into the hearse, okay tow truck, I took my beloved to her final resting place... a body shop in the Foothills of North Carolina. Bluey's time came and gone in this ball of fate. Even though she was about 15 years old and was pushing 200,000 miles, she left us too early.

I called my Mom the next morning and she said something that made sense, this could be a blessing in disguise. I might have a better car, perhaps a pickup truck, since it has a bigger crumple zone. The insurance company rep said that I should have a claim within the next 24 hours...possibly a rental car might be involved. So I still remain hopeful for now. But whatever happens, fate can be a good thing. Maybe I'll get a nice chunk of change and find another 90's era Toyota Corolla and for some reason I want a white one and call it "whitey" or maybe "Albino Jones". Maybe my memories of Bluey ran deep or just maybe Toyota makes damn good cars. Now I know this sounds like a Springsteen song (maybe I'll write my blog about GIRLS next time!), but this car was special like a girl or even like "Born To Run". There are parts in life in which the little things become central. Bluey became central for a little thing in my life. Other cars (and maybe even women) will appear in my life, and the wheels of life will spin again.  Bluey was just a car, and a car will be replaced often (and I hope very soon in my situation). I'm sure there are other blue Toyotas, and other cars in the world. Bluey is now in the great big parking lot in the sky with Mrs. Goldberg and the others. Who knows what would happen next? Another Bluey might appear in the horizon! Anything could happen anytime. If I did not go out on that errand last night, Bluey would still be here-- but what would happen next; something good or something bad? We willl never know the answers or why Bluey left the highways of life, but fate has a way... We all hear that line that every cloud has a silver lining-- it's true; and the reason why there is a silver lining is because it's chrome plated!