The problem is
I DON'T BELIEVE!
Which, strictly speaking would have been problematic to Moses.
So what do you do if the whole world is dropping references, if the giant hand of God himself pops out of the sky and says 'Fucking ask it then'?
Well I said what any scientific person would say, 'If it happens a third time I'll give it more weight.'
God replied in his old testament manner and whipped me 'round the block. After a thorough beating and some grapes (really cheap today at the store) I settled down and thought through the last week.
BORING FACTS:
I'd only seen her twice in her little green car, with the little turfed roof and the little white ball. The first time I was in the car directly behind her (driving, quite curiously)and I noticed her golf course. Not something I normally pay much attention to, though I was in a slightly melancholy/horny mood and I had recently broken up with my girlfriend. I briefly had the idea of following her to her next stop just to ask why she had turf on her roof.
Yes, I know.
The next day a slightly frightening woman asked me for some help just as I was opening my car door. Being in the middle of Dickson, quite altruistic and slightly scared she might maul me, I obliged. She was one of those enthusiastic people with a cowboy hat, very small pupils and a dog she introduces to strangers. Her quest was simply helping her fill her car tyres. It took me a little while, but by experimenting on her vehicle I learnt how to pump tires up at petrol stations.
Today, on my way home from a lecture a small familiar golf course trundled in front of me. I indicated to turn off into a petrol station; as did the golf course.
She got to fill her car first, went to pay then I started filling mine right next to her abandoned car.
What do you do in that situation? Her back is turned, she's off paying for her petrol and there's a large man in a large gas guzzler behind you impatiently revving his engine. I'll admit the idea of fondling her turf did play in my mind,as did the idea of hacking the golf ball off the turf and saying 'oh, you seem to have dropped this.'
A moment later she returned, without a glance at me she waltzed to her car, got in and drove away. I finished filling my car, payed and briefly considered suicide or a twix bar.
I lumped back into my own bald golf course, threw the twix bar on the passenger seat and drove away dejectedly. I didn't have the ball to do it!
I indicated at the exit and checked for cars to my left.
She was there! Puzzling, goddamn PUZZLING over how to pump her wheels up, an expertise I'd just recently learnt from a dog whisperer!
So I drove off, as I've done so many times, as I think most people have.
I DON'T BELIEVE.
Hollywood trained me for fighting Aliens. It trained me in the idea of love at first sight and other creepy romaticist ideas, but in that moment of fate, in the moment the last few days seemed to have been pointing to; I couldn't even reference Spock.
I just drove away.
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