fogball angels
fogball – foto by Smith
Another help angel appeared out of nowhere.
We drove 15 miles to pick up Guide To Book Publishers, Editors, & Literary Agents 2010 by Jeff Herman $29.99. Got back in the car and it wouldn’t start – no click, no turnover, no nothing. I checked the battery – cables were tight and clean and the battery is less than a year old. Oil level was fine. I’m stumped. Only thing I can think of is since it’s a stick shift and a small car, I could push it while Lady clutch-started it.
Suddenly a young black walking by man with his wife and four children comes over and starts poking around, decides he can use his car to give us a push to start ours so he and his son push our car backwards out of the parking slot as I steer, whereupon I turn the key again and it starts. Hugs all around and we head homeward.
Changed our dinner plans and decided to eat eight blocks down the street so we could walk home if it didn’t start. Came back out after miso soup and spring rolls to the same old no click no turnover no nothing blues. I figure last time we rolled it backwards 10 feet and it started, so I put my foot down onto the asphalt and push us back 12 inches, turn the key, and the car starts.
Of course this is the one week Lady needs the car Monday through Friday because she’s teaching an on-site client. I’ll wait and see if it starts tomorrow morn, and if not, if backing up will help.
(note – car started fine this morning without any tricks and I drove her to work just in case.)
This is like one of those worlds where you need magic spells, chants, potions and rituals to make reality work.
These aren’t our first angels.
In Krakow, Poland, we arrived at the new apartments we’d rented on a Sunday and couldn’t get in. No one answered the buzzers, and the agent that was to meet us never showed up. I stayed at the locked door with our bags and back packs while Lady searched for a public fone without success. When she returned, we were plotting finding the closest motel for a night when a blonde young woman showed up, said in English, “Oh, you’re trying to get in,” and called the building owners. They explained they thought we’d be there tomorrow and were out of town, so she called the cleaning lady of the building, had her let us in, picked up Lady’s backpack and ran it upstairs, got the cleaning lady to loan us her keys for a day, smiled at us, and disappeared. This was when we decided we had to buy a cell fone.
In Pezenas, France, I had a flat tire on the bicycle an hour or two from home. A long tall lean Frenchman walked up to me and said in English, “You have to go into the store right behind you immediately and buy an inner tube because the store closes in 10 minutes.” I insisted I could repair the tube and didn’t need a new one. He refused to listen to me and hustled Lady into the store to buy the tube. By the time she returned with it, I’d found my tube had a leak in the air stem and was totally unfixable. Had he not made us buy a tube, I’d have been tube screwed.
Also in Krakow there was a more-or-less prophesized angel of mercy. Sitting at our kitchen table our third week in Krakow I told Lady I’d been straight long enough, I wanted some ganja. Lady said where was I going to find it in a strange city where I didn’t speak the language. I said “Marijuana, marijuana, marijuana” and rapped the table and said “There, it will appear.” The next morning as we left the building, passing an open dark door 50 feet down the street I head “Smith” called out. I walked back to the door and saw a rock and roll singer we’d met the night before. I asked him if he knew where I could get any grass. He reached into his pocket, said “Someone just gave me this, it must have been for you,” and handed me a marijuana bud.
There’s magic all around us, we just need to be open, to look about and pay attention.
fogballs – fotos by Smith
