Demony Cars

This is from 2005:

I think the powers of darkness tried to kill me last night.

How do I know this? First of all, it was nighttime. Everyone knows that Satan would not kill you during the day. It just wouldn’t be cool.

Second of all, my almost death came in three parts. Three is a very significant number in demonology. If you take the number three and times it by two then you have a six. If you have three sixes (Notice how all of the sudden the number three popped up again?) and put them together you have… that’s right. 666.

The third indicator of darkness was my own personal road rage. I am normally a calm, peaceful individual. When I drive, I imagine that my wheels are gliding along a road made of water and incense. Yes, it makes no sense, but can you imagine two things that inspire more tranquility than water and incense?  I certainly can’t. So, how then could it be that I, the envy of Tibetan Monks everywhere (especially in, y’know, Tibet) could experience road rage? It’s not possible. Unless… unless powerful dark forces were at work. Which they WERE.

First came the Omen. I had driven way out into the country to pick up one of the youths in my church to take him to an activity. He wasn’t there. Why was he not there? He was, at that very moment, rehearsing in a choir for a performance of ‘Handel’s Messiah.’ Truly, dark forces had already taken control of the evening.

So I made my way back into the city towards the church, alone. When you are alone, you are the most vulnerable to a Satanic attack. Satan wasted no time; upon making my way onto the main road that led back to town, I was immediately confronted with a Honda Civic. An evil Honda Civic.  How did I know it was evil?  It was a Honda Civic. Also, we were on a 50 mph road and this car had the audacity to only go 35 mph. I remained calm. I thought about flashing my lights.  “No, no. I can just pass him.” So I did. Crisis averted, right?

Wrong. This was just the first salvo. I was being lulled into a state of security. Having already encountered one lazy driver, what were the odds that I’d encounter two? Pretty even, as it turned out.

As soon as I was back into town, a Mustang pulled out in front of me. No problem there, it wasn’t like he cut me off or anything. But wait… what was this? Yep, you’ve already guessed it. This Mustang, this car with so much horsepower in it it was actually NAMED AFTER A HORSE, was doing about 25 mph in a 45 mph zone. “No problem,” I said to myself. “I can just pass him.”

A couple of oncoming cars blocked my initial attempts, but soon I was on my way. “Plenty of room,” I thought to myself. So there I am, rocking out to Enya, and it’s just as I’m up alongside the Mustang and staring down the headlights of the car that was rushing quickly towards me that I realized something very, very wrong was occurring. The Mustang was speeding up!  I sped up more, and the Mustang matched me. Demony sounds emanated from it’s engine.

At about 3 seconds away from my own death, I slammed on the brakes and took my place once more behind the Mustang. Thoughts of water and incense left me and I cursed Enya’s Celtic wordplay. I was mad now. The Mustang immediately pulled off to the side of the road. I do not know why it did this; I can only suspect it might have been pulled over by an invisible demon cop that reprimanded it for it’s failed attempt on my life. But that is only speculation on my part.

It was time for my revenge. It was time to rage.

I honked my horn.

But even then, Satan was not done. Everything that had happened so far on the road that evening was just a prelude to the ultimate evil.

That’s right, a mini van.

I was not 100 feet further down the road when the white beast pulled out in front of me. There was a stop sign on it’s side of the street, but it did not care.  It was time for it to go, right then. How else to ensure my death?  So there I am, doing 50 mph in a 45 mph zone (remember, I was raging) and this mini van, this monster from hell, pulls right in front of me and proceeds to go precisely as slow as he needs to to make sure that I rear-end him. But I was smarter than that,  I knew what to do. I slowed down to an appropriate speed and didn’t tail him.  Though I was raging, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

Three attempts on my life and I had emerged victorious. But it wasn’t just me.  I had protection, and I knew who my provider was. I was alive and it felt good.  I was also in the perfect spot to exact my final revenge. Again, I honked my horn.

That’s right, two horn honkings. Take that, Satan.

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