or perhaps just my own dumb luck and stupidity.
Years ago while on my way to a Bible study in the home of members of a Pentecostal church, I stopped to get gas, and seemingly for no apparent reason, I decided to check the air pressure in my spare tire. It was almost flat so I inflated it and less than two miles down the freeway my left front tire popped. This resulted in about a 15 minute delay to my normally punctual appearance at the bible study.
They didn't seem all that interested in the reason for my tardiness, and were already discussing some notable events of the previous week, testimonies etc. I normally didn't have much to contribute to the topic of testimonies, but saw a possible opportunity to present what they might deem an act of divine intervention.
For the most part, they all seemed ambivalent, and I must confess that deep down this may be due to the fact that I wasn't really convinced God was necessarily doing anything either.
The reason for this was because a pattern was beginning to emerge, one which I was just then beginning to become aware of. About a minute or two prior to a blowout this thought would cross my mind: "Was that an earthquake?"
I was living in California at the time, and while earthquakes were sporadic, they were still somewhat common. I was also in the habit of running my tires until they popped.
About a year later, that same thought crossed my mind, and I immediately slowed down and tightened my grip on the steering wheel preparing for the imminent blowout, and within about two miles the right front tire popped.
I also noticed that the cause of this "premonition" was due to a vibration that I felt in the steering wheel. This vibration always preceded the subsequent blowout.
There were at least half a dozen of these blowouts before I began to become aware of these subtle vibrations that preceded each and every blowout.
So, somewhere in my subconscious mind, I already knew that a blowout was inevitable and that I'd better check to make sure my spare tire had enough air in it. I've also come to the realization that my subconscious mind is just as much of a tightwad as I am when I'm awake. I made sure I got every last mile from all my tires.
In my own defense, I was living anchored out on a barge with no indoor plumbing, hot or cold running water, and driving a cheap, and quite old car.
I also had an old American motorcycle which had a worn crack on the fuel gas line. It was a breather hose in between the left and right gas tanks. It was fairly easy to see (and smell), but not of much concern to me until one night as I was cruising down the freeway I began to notice sparks flying up into my face from the ignition switch which was located just behind that cracked fuel hose.
My keen intuition informed me that as long as those sparks were flying away from the cracked fuel line, I was probably going to be okay. However, I also realized that gas vapors were also escaping in the same direction which prompted me to accelerate just to be on the safe side.
This probably wasn't all that bright an idea due to the fact that the gas vapors and sparks were both flying right into me. At some point, I was going to have to stop. What was I supposed to do then? I could cut the ignition, but then I'd have to walk the rest of the way home. Convenience and downright laziness trumped self-preservation, and I've noticed that this is the case with pretty much all Boobus Americanus.
Eventually I got around to fixing that short in the ignition switch, but it was probably months later before I got around to parting with a couple bucks to replace a 2" piece of fuel line.
Years ago while on my way to a Bible study in the home of members of a Pentecostal church, I stopped to get gas, and seemingly for no apparent reason, I decided to check the air pressure in my spare tire. It was almost flat so I inflated it and less than two miles down the freeway my left front tire popped. This resulted in about a 15 minute delay to my normally punctual appearance at the bible study.
They didn't seem all that interested in the reason for my tardiness, and were already discussing some notable events of the previous week, testimonies etc. I normally didn't have much to contribute to the topic of testimonies, but saw a possible opportunity to present what they might deem an act of divine intervention.
For the most part, they all seemed ambivalent, and I must confess that deep down this may be due to the fact that I wasn't really convinced God was necessarily doing anything either.
The reason for this was because a pattern was beginning to emerge, one which I was just then beginning to become aware of. About a minute or two prior to a blowout this thought would cross my mind: "Was that an earthquake?"
I was living in California at the time, and while earthquakes were sporadic, they were still somewhat common. I was also in the habit of running my tires until they popped.
About a year later, that same thought crossed my mind, and I immediately slowed down and tightened my grip on the steering wheel preparing for the imminent blowout, and within about two miles the right front tire popped.
I also noticed that the cause of this "premonition" was due to a vibration that I felt in the steering wheel. This vibration always preceded the subsequent blowout.
There were at least half a dozen of these blowouts before I began to become aware of these subtle vibrations that preceded each and every blowout.
So, somewhere in my subconscious mind, I already knew that a blowout was inevitable and that I'd better check to make sure my spare tire had enough air in it. I've also come to the realization that my subconscious mind is just as much of a tightwad as I am when I'm awake. I made sure I got every last mile from all my tires.
In my own defense, I was living anchored out on a barge with no indoor plumbing, hot or cold running water, and driving a cheap, and quite old car.
I also had an old American motorcycle which had a worn crack on the fuel gas line. It was a breather hose in between the left and right gas tanks. It was fairly easy to see (and smell), but not of much concern to me until one night as I was cruising down the freeway I began to notice sparks flying up into my face from the ignition switch which was located just behind that cracked fuel hose.
My keen intuition informed me that as long as those sparks were flying away from the cracked fuel line, I was probably going to be okay. However, I also realized that gas vapors were also escaping in the same direction which prompted me to accelerate just to be on the safe side.
This probably wasn't all that bright an idea due to the fact that the gas vapors and sparks were both flying right into me. At some point, I was going to have to stop. What was I supposed to do then? I could cut the ignition, but then I'd have to walk the rest of the way home. Convenience and downright laziness trumped self-preservation, and I've noticed that this is the case with pretty much all Boobus Americanus.
Eventually I got around to fixing that short in the ignition switch, but it was probably months later before I got around to parting with a couple bucks to replace a 2" piece of fuel line.
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