Requiem for a Wreck
A few months ago, I pulled out of my garage, successfully negotiated the turn around a big pinon tree, and headed for the street. I had done that about 58,688 times before. But this time I was fiddling with the radio trying to find Meryl Haggard singing Me and Bobby Mcgee.
Everything was going great until I hit an awkward looking box elder tree. It was in front of the bunk house where Shiloh lives. There was a loud careening noise that resonated around the inside of my car, and parts of something were flying through the air.
It was the housing that covered the mirror on the passenger’s side of my jeep. I suddenly went into denial and hoped Shiloh had not heard the crash. I thought about blaming it on Willie, but he wasn’t in the car.
So I picked up as many of the pieces as I could find and hurried them into the big trash can stationed by the gate. As I drove away, I noticed that the mirror was working fine. Only the covering was gone.
And you know what? Even to this day no one has noticed the damage, and I’m not talking. The unfortunate mirror still needs a little cosmetic surgery, but I don’t care about that. My wife would be appalled if she knew.
The wreck made me start thinking. Maybe the gods were telling me to pay more attention to things that were happening in my life, and be more in charge. So I will, starting right now.
Who says I have to repair the fool mirror? It’s my car isn’t it, and I get to make all of the decisions related to it, don’t I?
And while I’m on the subject, who says I have to eat broccoli, cauliflower, rhubarb, and certain kinds of squash? Men my age are supposed to do as they’re told but from now on, I’m gonna do exactly as I please.
With my new found freedom I might even get a piercing someplace, who knows?
And maybe I’ll make myself a hot dog for lunch, with sauerkraut and whatever else I want on it. But for now, I’m going out and thank that great box elder tree for giving me inspiration. f