My dad sat so patiently this
early morning it was very suspicious to be honest. He had told us about a car
some days earlier, it was one he really admired because of the way he spoke
about it, “it flies” with a glow in his face he said. For a man that rarely
says something good about anything with a show of positive emotions, this was a
quantum leap, but we didn’t know what day and honestly we didn’t care. Why? For
to us it was just a car. As minutes turned into hours the gates opened and a
car not used to our packing lot rolled in as we stared, and then we understood,
why dad cared so much; it was a Mercedes.
Mercedes has been an essential
part of our growing up, it was that thing that my dad never got mad at, no
matter how bad it got. Nevertheless, when
a new car cruised in, we had a culture of dedicating it first in this home; Say
a prayer, before anyone drives it, you know? But, Today was different, this car
was different, two things were established in split seconds, as we admired this
new toy; this car is not for everybody, I don’t have time for prayers, and off he
drove out of the premise. It was more than a toy, it was his new baby.
Time passed and sadly, this baby
had an accident and it affected the engine so much it probably needed warming
up every morning without which, it packs off at least that is what the local
mechanic makes us believe, nevertheless it was way expensive to be repaired and
the problem kept resurfacing. Therefore, that baton fell to me. As a successful
early riser, I was deemed fit enough to handle this responsibility. I stepped
out so early once the night police mistook me for a thief, so in summary, my
early rising CV was great.
He approached me with the key
very unwillingly as he said “Please don’t go far in this car, I would be
repairing it very soon” and as a good son I obeyed, figuratively. But, as I
drove out that very day, I experienced the comfort this car had to offer, a
fine European auto-mobile that was made to drive with finesse, it had a smooth
acceleration and the screen wipers moved automatically according to the
intensity of the rain drops that morning. This car drove beautifully. This was
the safest and shortest drive I have ever made literally.
So I get back, packed the car,
turned the ignition off and then I saw seven faults have been recorded, and am
like “excuse me!?” So I started the car again, with my seatbelt on (could even
have worn a helmet if I had one) for about two minutes and turned it off
without moving (accelerating).
“3 Fault has been recorded”
“Mercedes, how far? But I didn’t move anywhere!?” I yelled.
Around here, who wins an argument
actually is the one who speaks loudest. So I tried that. It didn’t work, maybe because
I was up against a machine. It didn’t care how much I yelled. We have all had
that moment when we just want to play the victim, when we just don’t want to
learn because we know so much and we have facts to back us up, this was mine.
So I was reminded of the man who after having an accident at a junction after
work, steps out of his car and yells “What is wrong with all of you today? You
are the sixth car hitting me”
Remembering this, I look at this car, ready to
learn how to be better and it says simply "visit a workshop, some parts need
to be serviced"
It was a fault but it wasn’t my
fault. All I needed to do was listen
But, I am still just a Bystander.
That job is for someone else. The Owner.
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