The Smoky Dragon Wagon

October 6, 2015



The pump don’t work ‘cause the vandals took the handle – Bob Dylan Subterranean Homesick Blues

All the telephones are broken.

72 hours until Mercury goes direct and my phone won’t cooperate today.

Tarot.com posted a video about the do’s and do nots of retrograde.

Don’t travel is a big one.

I wanted to write this post on Sunday, but nothing was resolved.
It’s now Tuesday and nothing is resolved.

In 48 hours it will have been 90 days since I got hit the first time, this last time.
That had nothing to do with retrograde, summer retrograde killed off a third of Gemini season and cost me my Gelfling, temporarily. We’re talking again, and dreamfasting a bit too.

I got rear-ended on July 8th, some single lady in the HOV lane on her phone decided she needed over RIGHT FUCKING NOW. She plowed into the lady behind me who then plowed into me. I held the brake and stopped the accident. The attending officer thanked me for it. I have to go to court soon to testify. God grant me the strength not to call her a twatwaffle. The amount of discord she has caused is…all. Although, I may end up thanking said twatwaffle, this weird butterfly effect has not stopped yet,  feels like a favorable outcome.

My insurance cheque equalled the exact amount I had spent on the Jeep that go hit, which erased Young Un’s debt to me karmically and financially, so that worked out, we are talking again too.

I am waiting, patiently as I can, for everything to make sense.

Once upon a dirt road somewhere I was fighting with my ex, and in my anger I floored my truck. Hit about 140km/h whilst screaming at him about whatever the atrocity of the day was. Unbeknownst to me he reached over and popped it into neutral, we rolled to a stop. The fight stopped too.

Once upon a bridge, last Thursday the new to me truck that that very ex told me to buy, lost power steering, then brakes, then death wobbled and then threw the back tire. Sheared off at the axle in fact, while I was driving down a hill.

We named it the Smoky Dragon Wagon. It’s an 89 Jeep Grand Wagoneer with a diesel engine. It has been trying to kill me, much like its namesake. I never watched Lost, but I know of the Smoky Dragon, the sheer lunacy of that concept is why I don’t watch the show, that and the polar bear thing, and because I think the whole thing is a huge joke played by very smart TV people. That being said, I feel like if I was to watch it, I would find an awful lot of parallels to the nonsensical nature of my life.

When I moved to the farm with my ex, he said “You never have to move again”, and a temporary relief flooded me. I have moved over 40 times in 25 years. Probably 10 times since he said that. Back and forth to the farm at least 3 times. The relief I felt was temporary as are all things. Also, I am gypsy.

When my ex sent me the ad for this truck he said “You will never have to buy another truck.” My gut rolled. Always always always go with your gut. He still thinks of me as the timid girl who is scared to drive, who needs a tank to protect her. Who thinks staying in one place is a relief. Its not. I’m not. I am now the girl who likes to drive fast and fly free, unencumbered.

This thing, this smoky dragon, has been nothing but a money pit nightmare. The day I brought it home the front wheel popped off whilst I was backing it up in the driveway. The lugs had been loose the whole 3 hour drive home. The wheel chose the moment where I was safe and had a 2 tonne jack and a tire angel 15 feet from where it happened instead of the highway where I could have killed someone or myself.

I finally got it fixed and safety-ed, drove it back to the same driveway and the back tire was smoking. Figured the brake was seized. Knocked it with a hammer, drove back to the mechanic and he eased the e brake off.

The minute I saw the smoke, I posted it for sale. Okay, not that minute, I sprayed it down with water so the tire didn’t melt. THEN I posted it for sale. I am a stubborn girl, but I can only do so much before it feels ridiculous. This felt ridiculous. I laughed with relief at my decision and the ridiculousness. I am done fighting, all things human and mechanical.

A week later I sold it. It was on the trip home from doing so that it really tried to kill me. I have an autopilot setting that saves my life. Without thinking I popped the truck into neutral which allowed me to use the upside of the hill to stop, safely, with the tires one inch on the right side of the white line and room for my tow truck driver. I am that good.

He answers the phone “where are you and how bad is it?” now. No hello. Some knights drive big black tow trucks. He laughed at the other tow truck driver who was attempting to coddle me. “You don’t know my girl” he said. “This was nothing for her. She’s tough.” He let me cry for like half a second, and then told me I did good.

I am barely crying about anything anymore. I get a few sobs out and just think “okay, where’s this going.”

The men I sold the truck to, in some weird bit of timing, went for food and were driving along the same road as we were towing the truck along and followed me to the mechanic’s yard. They still want it.

The smoky dragon wagon was still under safety and therefore my mechanics are obligated to fix it. They also have the exact same Jeep that I had the first time I got hit this last time. See how that all seems to be working out in the end? I do.

Everything spirals out and back in again. I have it on good authority that the Gelfling will return in full in 4 and a half years and everything will be exactly the same and completely different, much like the resolution to this truck. Same same on the outside, better faster stronger on the inside.

So endeth the lesson, until it comes back around again to show me more.









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