Grace
Catskills, 2000 - Morning
I got in my car, ready to go to the only supermarket within miles to get kosher meat they stocked. As I rev up the engine I hear and feel a rickety vibration.
Ordinarily I wouldn't take chances driving and take it to be looked at. It being a Sunday, I figure I'd drive to Catskill (the town I needed to get to), see if there was any kind of place open that could have a look, and worse came to worse, I'd leave it for the next day when everyone was open. But I'd still be careful driving.
So I start down 212, onto the freeway (87) then down the county road towards Catskill through Saugerties and this rattling is getting louder.
Since I bought the car second or third hand from the dealer, I'd put everything I had into it. I bought it for a thousand bucks and invested 4,000. Every month something else broke down. Eventually I pretty well replaced everything that could be replaced.
One day when I was getting it inspected, the guy had a look under the hood and told me that I'd been driving around with the engine flapping around. Seems that the straps that hold it to the body were missing.
Replaced those too.
So, I wasn't exactly fazed when this new problem surfaced but couldn't figure out what it could be. I left the mechanics to the experts. And for the record, for the first 40 years of my life never owned or even drove a car. I'd biked, bussed and walked my way through life.
But that all changed when I moved Upstate where I needed a car just for survival. So I got my license at the age of 34 and 6 years later got the Taurus. I was clueless about cars, but did change my own oil. Bikes were a different story. Two wheels and a chain were the dynamics I was familiar with.
So I got to Catskill, did the shopping, put the stuff in the back and switch on the engine, start to pull out, but now the car REALLY sounds bad. Now I lose my cool. I'm miles away from home, a Sunday - so I start berating myself for stupidly getting all the way there when and now what...?! So I decide to do what I usually do when all odds are against me and just drive. Come what may - I can't stay there, I have no phone, it's the only thing to do.
Inching out, onto the road, back onto the county road. Out of the blue a white service van appears in the distance and I start gaining on him. I can see he's driving slow - maybe about 30 mph or even slower. I figure - whatever and I slow way down all the way.
Now this particular road is a narrow road - it's two lanes and there's no way to pass on it. Ravines on both sides with no visibility due to dips and breaks. One minute you can see the road, the next it's a curve or an incline. So we're driving like this for about 20 minutes, till finally Saugerties appears. Which is a huge relief now that I made it to familiar territory. The van continues straight and I decide to take the next right.
Onto a street called Finger Rd. Yes, Finger Rd.
The minute I turn, the car starts violently rocking - I mean physically moving up, down, right, left - then a screetch, the car goes down and I see my wheel fly off into the air crashing down into someone's front yard. Lopsided, I turn the engine off, knees shaking I walk up to the house where the wheel flew, knocked on the door and this gorgeous women dressed in white with platinum blonde hair opens the door.
I said *Hi there. I had an accident and my wheel flew into your yard. I need some help.* She said *My husband is a mechanic. Hold on and I'll call him*. She got on the phone and he said sure bring the car and he'll take a look. But how do I get the car there? She looks outside and points to this guy who happened to be in the other yard doing some work. He was driving a tow truck. What are the odds of that? So I go up to him, explain the situation and he said sure, 75 bucks. Great. We collect the wheel, hitch the car, I get into the cab next to him. At this point I'm out of body, shaken but somehow start a conversation with the guy about teens and their issues.
We backtrack to Catskill where the mechanic is waiting. Car unloaded, he has a look, tells me the torques were snapped off and he needs to order new ones and that would be only tomorrow when the parts truck could come. Great. I ask the tow guy if he'd take me back to Woodstock - he agrees for a fee. take my kosher meat, thank the mechanic guy and tell him I'd be back the next day to pick up the car.
So - I get back to Woodstock, pay the tow guy and off I go into my little world to sort things out - and it slowly dawns that I was saved. That wheel could have flown off at any point. On the freeway, on the narrow pass road, on 212 - anywhere. And I could've died. And then the white slow driving van appears making me slow down the whole way, the wheel flying off into the yard of a mechanic, and a tow truck just happened to be next door, the mechanic being on a Sunday (!) and all this is happening on Finger Rd.
Slow churnings of the cerebral matter and it still didn't compute.
This was an elegant saving. Movie worthy with all the players and scenes intact. Drama and action. The key component in any act of salvation for sure. But to what end? It's hard to see the reasons why when the aftermath of so many episodes is still unfolding, raw and unedited.
Years later I still think back - like today - prompting this post - and wonder why. Why was I saved? At times I think it was a cruel joke, like God saying I still would merit the *biggie* at another junction. Then I'd really get it bad and protracted.
There were a few instances in recent times when that *biggie* came and went and each time I'm thinking *so THIS is why You saved me then, so I could suffer 100 times more?!*
I'll tell you, when the going is so rough, so hard, so distressing, it's hard to feel gratitude when all you really want to do is end it all. After these years of intensity, it's hard to say thank you God. Some days are easier than others. But it's not *easy*. It doesn't just roll off my tongue. I need to remind myself consciously to be aware of food, shelter and a fan. Life, still beating its tired wings. For music and a voice and some green in the guise of trees.
And every morning I say thank you for restoring my soul even though I'm not sure this is the life I'd have chosen to be saved into. I say it feeling it's *first do and then understand*. And in some corner of consciousness, I think that in spite of all my derailments and falterings, maybe one day it will all click and I'll understand *why*.
I got in my car, ready to go to the only supermarket within miles to get kosher meat they stocked. As I rev up the engine I hear and feel a rickety vibration.
Ordinarily I wouldn't take chances driving and take it to be looked at. It being a Sunday, I figure I'd drive to Catskill (the town I needed to get to), see if there was any kind of place open that could have a look, and worse came to worse, I'd leave it for the next day when everyone was open. But I'd still be careful driving.
So I start down 212, onto the freeway (87) then down the county road towards Catskill through Saugerties and this rattling is getting louder.
Since I bought the car second or third hand from the dealer, I'd put everything I had into it. I bought it for a thousand bucks and invested 4,000. Every month something else broke down. Eventually I pretty well replaced everything that could be replaced.
One day when I was getting it inspected, the guy had a look under the hood and told me that I'd been driving around with the engine flapping around. Seems that the straps that hold it to the body were missing.
Replaced those too.
So, I wasn't exactly fazed when this new problem surfaced but couldn't figure out what it could be. I left the mechanics to the experts. And for the record, for the first 40 years of my life never owned or even drove a car. I'd biked, bussed and walked my way through life.
But that all changed when I moved Upstate where I needed a car just for survival. So I got my license at the age of 34 and 6 years later got the Taurus. I was clueless about cars, but did change my own oil. Bikes were a different story. Two wheels and a chain were the dynamics I was familiar with.
So I got to Catskill, did the shopping, put the stuff in the back and switch on the engine, start to pull out, but now the car REALLY sounds bad. Now I lose my cool. I'm miles away from home, a Sunday - so I start berating myself for stupidly getting all the way there when and now what...?! So I decide to do what I usually do when all odds are against me and just drive. Come what may - I can't stay there, I have no phone, it's the only thing to do.
Inching out, onto the road, back onto the county road. Out of the blue a white service van appears in the distance and I start gaining on him. I can see he's driving slow - maybe about 30 mph or even slower. I figure - whatever and I slow way down all the way.
Now this particular road is a narrow road - it's two lanes and there's no way to pass on it. Ravines on both sides with no visibility due to dips and breaks. One minute you can see the road, the next it's a curve or an incline. So we're driving like this for about 20 minutes, till finally Saugerties appears. Which is a huge relief now that I made it to familiar territory. The van continues straight and I decide to take the next right.
Onto a street called Finger Rd. Yes, Finger Rd.
The minute I turn, the car starts violently rocking - I mean physically moving up, down, right, left - then a screetch, the car goes down and I see my wheel fly off into the air crashing down into someone's front yard. Lopsided, I turn the engine off, knees shaking I walk up to the house where the wheel flew, knocked on the door and this gorgeous women dressed in white with platinum blonde hair opens the door.
I said *Hi there. I had an accident and my wheel flew into your yard. I need some help.* She said *My husband is a mechanic. Hold on and I'll call him*. She got on the phone and he said sure bring the car and he'll take a look. But how do I get the car there? She looks outside and points to this guy who happened to be in the other yard doing some work. He was driving a tow truck. What are the odds of that? So I go up to him, explain the situation and he said sure, 75 bucks. Great. We collect the wheel, hitch the car, I get into the cab next to him. At this point I'm out of body, shaken but somehow start a conversation with the guy about teens and their issues.
We backtrack to Catskill where the mechanic is waiting. Car unloaded, he has a look, tells me the torques were snapped off and he needs to order new ones and that would be only tomorrow when the parts truck could come. Great. I ask the tow guy if he'd take me back to Woodstock - he agrees for a fee. take my kosher meat, thank the mechanic guy and tell him I'd be back the next day to pick up the car.
So - I get back to Woodstock, pay the tow guy and off I go into my little world to sort things out - and it slowly dawns that I was saved. That wheel could have flown off at any point. On the freeway, on the narrow pass road, on 212 - anywhere. And I could've died. And then the white slow driving van appears making me slow down the whole way, the wheel flying off into the yard of a mechanic, and a tow truck just happened to be next door, the mechanic being on a Sunday (!) and all this is happening on Finger Rd.
Slow churnings of the cerebral matter and it still didn't compute.
This was an elegant saving. Movie worthy with all the players and scenes intact. Drama and action. The key component in any act of salvation for sure. But to what end? It's hard to see the reasons why when the aftermath of so many episodes is still unfolding, raw and unedited.
Years later I still think back - like today - prompting this post - and wonder why. Why was I saved? At times I think it was a cruel joke, like God saying I still would merit the *biggie* at another junction. Then I'd really get it bad and protracted.
There were a few instances in recent times when that *biggie* came and went and each time I'm thinking *so THIS is why You saved me then, so I could suffer 100 times more?!*
I'll tell you, when the going is so rough, so hard, so distressing, it's hard to feel gratitude when all you really want to do is end it all. After these years of intensity, it's hard to say thank you God. Some days are easier than others. But it's not *easy*. It doesn't just roll off my tongue. I need to remind myself consciously to be aware of food, shelter and a fan. Life, still beating its tired wings. For music and a voice and some green in the guise of trees.
And every morning I say thank you for restoring my soul even though I'm not sure this is the life I'd have chosen to be saved into. I say it feeling it's *first do and then understand*. And in some corner of consciousness, I think that in spite of all my derailments and falterings, maybe one day it will all click and I'll understand *why*.
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