Road rage

I had a fleeting thought on Friday. A man at our local car dealership had just inspected our vehicle and in spite of the fact that it has been keyed by a pedestrian seething with envy no doubt, it got a thumbs up. We can hand it back in a week’s time knowing that we don’t have to pay any extra. As I was being told this, a little voice in my head said ‘Imagine if it gets pranged in the next 7 days.’

But I banished said thought from my mind. I know how the law of attraction works, so instead, I pictured myself handing back an almost pristine vehicle.

This morning, when I came out of the supermarket, there was a piece of bumper next to my car. I had a good look – it wasn’t mine. Then I saw it. A dent and a scratch along the passenger door of our soon-to-be-handed-back four-wheel drive.

Some f***er had bashed into our car and driven off without a note. I realise I am not sounding remotely spiritual here, but I was thorough hacked off. With the culprit, with myself and the freaking universe.

That thought of mine had come true. How annoying. I have fleeting thoughts about winning the lottery and going on a hot date with George Clooney all the time, but they never come to fruition.

I felt quite pleased with myself when I swung into an empty spot in the supermarket car park, but I’d placed my car in the vicinity of someone who is worse at parking than I am and doesn’t have a conscience. I would have left a note.

Still, it is only stuff isn’t it? This incident will mean nothing to me this time next year, or next week even. The garage might even let us off and repair the damage themselves. Who knows?

However, I reserve the right to feel cross – fleetingly. It is a bit shit. Expletives have left my mouth, but I will be over it soon.

The year-long spiritual mentoring course is over and while I have experienced a seismic mind shift, I am still human. Jesus said that if a man takes your shirt, give him your coat too. I like the sentiment, but if I am honest, I’d holler ‘Give me my fucking shirt back and no, you are not having my coat. It was very expensive.’

I am not perfect. Far from it. I am a woman of many foibles and that’s okay. I am perfectly imperfect. What’s changed is that I refuse to give myself a hard time over it.

I don’t wish any hardship on the driver who dented my door this morning, but if I ever find out who you are, you’d better hope that I’m in a peace and love frame of mind by then…

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