As I waited for my lethal concoction of milk, sugars, candies and whipped cream a man, (or the missing link), walking by tapped on the passenger window. I looked around to be sure I had witnesses in case I was at the beginning end of a crime spree; I didn’t want to die anonymously. No one was paying attention, occupants of the cars behind me were studying the menu and the employee who took my order was talking on her walkie-talkie to the customer following me in line, so I ignored the intruder for a few minutes but he persistently tapped on the pane of glass. Then the young lady at the drive in window came out of her coma and raised her brows at me, I could read her mind, “Well, lady, are you going to see what he wants or not?”
Faint-heartedly I rolled down the window a scooh-ette, you know that’s just a little less than a scoosh. The repugnant looking stranger squeezed his lips through the miniscule opening so he could be heard and announced, “Hey lady, your front tire here is almost flat.”
“Oh, thanks,” I said, slightly relieved. It could still be a trick, “I’ll get it checked out.” Then I quickly closed the window so I could resume my respirations. Out with the bad air in with the good air. Whew, he needed mints in the worst possible way! Wars could be won if soldiers had rotten teeth and halitosis as bad as this guy’s.
After I was handed my comfort potion I headed to the garage where I get my car worked on most of the time and was informed that the stranger was absolutely correct, my front tire was almost flat. The mechanic, scratching his head, queried if my dashboard panel was working. Apparently this model car should have a little light that warns me of low tire pressure.
“Oh, this thing!” I exclaimed. “It’s been lit up ever since I bought the car, seven months ago now I guess.”
The mechanic gave me a look that insinuated he had no need for job insecurity as long as women had driver’s licenses. I felt a little foolish but once he airs my tires up and I get away that feeling will dissipate rapidly thanks to the short term memory loss I inherited from my ancestors.
“You didn’t notice any difficulty driving? I’ll bet your shoulders hurt from pulling on the steering wheel,” the grease monkey ventured.
“Nope, not a thing,” I lied, thinking of all that money spent on massages to loosen my neck muscles. No way was I going to satisfy his intuition; after all even irresponsible people have pride.
“I’m on my way now,” I notified, via cell phone, the friend whose new house I was on my way to inspect. “I had to stop…{slurp} to fix my…{slurp} …tires..{gulp}.”
“What is that gosh awful sound you’re making?” Jen asked.
“I stopped for a shake.”
“I thought you were on a diet?”
“Did I say it was a reduction diet?” I countered in defense of my guilt.
Turning on the GPS I set forth on my inner city safari to Jen’s new residence happily gulping away on my shake with one hand while the other hand was on the steering wheel enjoying the ease at which the wheels were operating. Wow, what a difference fully loaded tires make! My shoulders were no longer stiff! Whoopee. I didn't have to put my back into driving. Note to self: learn about the little dashboard lights!
"Go point 1 mile and turn left on East I-30". I looked ahead and thought no, I need to go right, and that's what I did.
"Recalculating route. Go 1.2 miles and exit on Star Street and make a U turn."
No. I definitely need to head west on I-30. I know that much about where I'm going, if I just give the GPS time to get its signals right it'll get on the correct page.
"Exit on Star Street and turn left."
This thing is still malfunctioning; it's trying to get me to go east. What a dufus. I tapped the screen hoping to jar some sense into it, and then held it up closer to the satellites in outer space that feed it its information, surely the extra 24 inches would get better reception. Maybe it wasn't picking up a good signal, although all the bars were lit up.
"Please turn left on Star Street." GPS ordered, it was building up to an electronic attitude. I passed Star Street, staying on I-30 west.
"Once again, recalculating route." GPS said. Did I hear it strain to conceal its annoyance with me?
I continued on I-30. I was now running out of city, not a good omen. I decided to veer off the freeway.
"Recalculating route for the TENTH time." GPS declared as if I couldn't count, actually that was only the .....Okay, so it was ten times, so what? I turned down Markus lane, the last obvious street before I left the county!
"Checking for alternate route." Okay, check. This time I might listen.
"Turn right on Drury Ave." Oh forget that, that side of the street is too dark, the light is better going left. I'll go left and let GPS recalculate route, after all that's what I have it for.
"Please pay attention. Turn right on...Recalculating route!" GPS was getting extremely vexed and not suitably concealing her aggravation.
Up ahead the street narrowed and ended. I'm now guessing that sign I recently disregarded said "Dead End". Well, at least I won’t get too lost on a dead end street. If I can just find a way to turn around, I mused. The sun started to set as goosepumps prickled my arms and spine. The trash littered street was lined with abandoned, condemned, boarded up ram shackled houses. Not an area I would expect to find Jen’s house in. I was hopelessly lost, how that could possibly happen when I had a GPS device!!!
"You are off course." GPS stated flatly illuminated the little car on her screen that represented me. Yep, it was off course alright.
I slowed down to back up and do some route altering maneuvers when I noticed shadows circling my vehicle, shadows attached to some questionable looking dudes and dudettes.
"Oh no, now what do I do?" I muttered, not having the nerve to act like a tough guy and run them down.
"You're not asking me are you? After all you haven't listened to me yet!" GPS exclaimed with high octane exasperation. "You're on your own now." With that GPS turned herself off. Wow, imagine such deplorable behavior! A minor difference of opinion and GPS takes her hormonal feelings and ditches me.
A gang of untouchables gathered around my hood, fender and side doors, peering in at me through eyes with sclera that hadn’t been white in years. With zombie like movements they studied me like a specimen in a museum, looking expectant. I was definitely at a critical moment in my life. Looking upward into a darkening sky I prayed that death would be swift (for them preferably but considering I was outnumbered…). I shuddered as though ice was running down my backbone; what happened to the oppressive summer heat and humidity?
“God, what about a little earthquake, tornado, meteorite or hey, this would actually be a good time for the rapture, what do you say?” I suggested just as my cell phone rang. Well, I have nothing better to do, “Hello and help!” I answered.
“Where are you?” Jen asked. It was comforting to hear my friend’s voice one last time before I met Jesus. I explained the situation.
“Hey dope, dial 911!” she said and hung up. Did she really just call me a dope? Can’t say I blame her but we will have a small discussion if I ever see again.
It was great suggestion; in due course I would have thought of it myself. I quickly summoned the 911 dispatcher and as luck would have it, my first encounter with luck tonight, a squad car was nearby and appeared almost instantly to escort me to a more public thorough fare. All I had to do was follow their tail lights. I had apparently found one of the locations the innocuous homeless called home and the police educated me that occasionally good Samaritans bring them meals and they probably were expecting a hand out from me. They pronounced Good Samaritan like it was a bad thing and Hand out is police jargon, those that love God prefer to use the term love offering!
Relieved to still be among the living I decided to head to my own home instead of to Jen’s house, and this time I followed the directions of GPS, who for point of reference is very cordial when she is listened to, thank heavens because I was in no mood for her quirky mind-set on my return trip.
After a nice shower and cup of soothing chamomile tea I slipped between my clean bed sheets, well they were clean three weeks ago when I changed them for summer, and reached for my bible. Then it hit me what I’ve learned tonight. Oh, I hate days where I learn things the hard way: from my own mistakes instead of those of my friends or better yet strangers.
I learned first off that when I’m not fully loaded with God’s word I tend to stray. He has warning signs in place for a purpose, like dashboard lights, to help me steer straight, and steering straight takes the strain off my spiritual muscles. Sometimes it takes some one on the outside to let you know you need more air in your tires or more spirit in your body. I also learned that my most important GPS is God’s word and when I don’t heed its directives I could wind up in horrible dilemmas; on back streets; off the beaten path; off the straight and narrow. Like GPS he advises me where to go, what road to take, what thoughts to have, though it’s still my option to follow him, but unlike GPS he won’t go AWOL on me, he doesn’t get hormonal! And when I fail to listen to him, (not if, but when) if I call out for him he’ll provide lights for me to follow home. (I still think a little earthquake wasn’t asking for too much, come on He’s the King of the universe!)
And another idea came to me from my internal GPS, first thing tomorrow, in broad daylight, and with some friends because I’m still a wuss, I think I’ll run a food delivery, i.e. love offering, and maybe some Visine, to a few disadvantaged people on the city’s outskirts because there but for the grace of God go I.
Oh, about the milk shake, no lessons were learned there. There are some sins I’m not convicted to repent of yet but that might come up some day in another story!
Yawn. Stretch. Snuggle. Good night.
Duet 4:31
Pro. 14:12
Pro. 16:9
Isaiah 30:21
John 14:26
1 john 2:27
