Thursday, February 23, 2012

Touched By The Hand of God

Bill Paxton smashing the window of Katherine Bigelow's car.  Sometimes I wish I could do that.  Sometimes I need to do that.

A stubborn man will fare badly in the end, and he who loves danger will perish in it.--Sirach

BLOGGER'S NOTE.  This tale was started last week.  Due to LIFE I failed to finish it in a timely manner.  The events that may or may not have occurred happened on Valentine's Day.

What a beautiful day for a bike ride!  The sun finally came out and not only did snow and ice melt but trails and streets dried off!!  No more Mr. Refreeze!!!  A clean slate for tomorrow's mix of rain and snow.  But savory the moment, it may quickly be taken away.

It was one of those days that I should have packed a lighter pair of gloves for the ride home.  26F was my morning's temperature.  I opted for a chance of sweat.  Clothing can dry out in 8 hours and I did not wear anything cotton.  Wool and synthetics are biker's friends, not cotton. 

I was a bit nervous before stepping outside.  My last adventure outside was a wet one.  Drizzle.  Drizzle sorta rhymes with miserable in a hip hop or Sting kinda way.  And that is the best description of the soft misty form of precipitation that covered the Greater Des Moines Metro on February 13th, 2012.  It really was not that bad BUT if the temperature would drop far enough trails and streets would be very icy.  However BLOGGER'S NOTE: THIS IS AS FAR AS I GOT.  SHIT.  WHY DID I BOTHER SAVING IT.  ALL WEEK I HAD THIS ONE IN MY HEAD AND HONESTLY I THOUGHT I WAS FURTHER ALONG.

However...lost thought.  It never snowed.  Weather was good great although once again it dipped on the week end.  So today it is raining and I must continue the story.

SE 8th and Indianola Ave or Road I never know which except I am on top of the hill and the street is busy.  Returning from GameStop after purchasing a gift card for Timmy's birthday.  It is rush hour now.  I must cross the busiest street I've encountered all day.

There is a white Cadillac on the other side.  Its driver desires to make a left turn.  I am going forward.  Both of us are waiting for a break in traffic.  New Caddy.  White sedan with the latest "hey we can build them to look look Japanese like BMW and the rest of the world has done".  I check for Illinois license plates.  Iowa.

A wave of contempt sweeps over me.  We have been fighting in the Middle east since 1991 for oil.  No end in sight.  Gas prices are soaring to $4 or $5 a gallon thanks to sabre rattling with Iran, demand from India and China and fear of  Exxon and BP disasters (Obama).  Millions of people out of work and this fool flaunts his wealth for a shitty car instead of purchasing a better quality auto that costs less.  Fucking rap star.  Bling.    The Schwinn of automobiles.

The waiting game begins.  Too many cars from both directions.  Nobody behind us.  Too much time.  I NEED to beat this bastard across the street.  Technically, since I am moving forward and it is turning left I have the right of way.  But it looks impatient as the Caddy rolls back and forth a bit. 

These are the time I feel like the John the Baptist of the asphalt.  A voice crying out from the pavement.  REPENT YOU GAS SMOKING HEATHEN SINNERS.  THE DAY IS AT HAND!!  Now this mofo is going to cut me off simply because I am on 22 lb of aluminum instead of 3 tons of steel, plastic and leather. 

What I needed was to have the break in traffic occur on my right.  This would delay the Cad's launch by a few precious seconds.  I'd be close to the center line by the time the driver's foot left the brake and depressed the accelerator.  I'd give the driver a look, "ha ha!" and cross to the safety of an empty street and pleasant downhill.  Denied.

The break occurred on my left.  It was a Jeep Cherokee.  We both saw it.  I would have to yield.  But then again,,,and it was a long opportunity, albeit a risky one, was present.  At the right moment SOON I could enter the intersection and get as close to the Jeep as possible and cross the center line as the Caddy begins to cross.  Risky.  The Jeep would hide me in a blind spot and create a blind spot for me.  Both the Caddy and I would be invisible to each each other during my take off.  AND if my tormentor was thinking like me there would be a possibility that it would be aiming for the first available space behind the Jeep.  Head on.

I had to act fast.  No other choice.  Every nanosecond counted.  the Jeep was in the left lane and appeared not to be wavering from the fast lane.  Time to go.  One last look right and left and right again.  Release brakes, push down on drive side pedal and push off with left foot and

"Chris, Hey Chris!"  A ram stuck in a bush.  Full stop now and turn head.  It was Rito.  The option I never considered.  At the very instant I was propelling myself to a most certain collision with a white Cadillac out of nowhere a friend appears and distracts me from my suicide mission.

I met Rito in October the very day my Giant Via was stolen.  If we would have met say 15 years ago or maybe 10, one of us would probably be dead or in prison.  But he has stopped taking the things in life that cost you too much.  Back then, the two of us together, Safety Shack x 10.  Pee Wee Herman and Adam Sandberg.  Rito and I meet every Sunday evening with 7 others for a project we are doing in May for church.  Not AA.  However, we have poured our souls out and shared the sorrid details of life unrestrained.  Would have been some fun times.

But at that moment he was there for me.  Sober in a new Dodge truck.  Saved my pride.  Gave me an out.  Caddy be damned.

Which brings me to the title of today's post.  Back in 1987 4 people from Manchester, England, were bored in a LA hotel and turned on MTV only to see shitty American hair metal music videos.  Being the free spirits that they were and still are, for their next single they took took a piss on the that crap music genre.  I admire that spirit.  That is exactly how I felt  when I saw the Caddy. 

The "Hand of God" also refers to Argentina's soccer legend Maredonna who stopped England's World Cup title bid back in 1990.

Perhaps I picked it because God sent someone to prevent me from being hit by a car.

Touched By The Hand of God

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