Carma

The other day, I was an errand-running phenom. There was absolutely no stopping me. The shopping I had put off for weeks, suddenly came together in one fell swoop. My wardrobe quickly doubled with my purchase of two pairs of pants. Presents for various friends’ birthdays were located in record time. I found myself smiling in a shopping mall for the first time since the success of the lightening-strike, Christmas Eve shopping-blitz, extravaganza of 2001.

One gift remained to be purchased; I had one more stop to make. Unfortunately, the only shop I could think of that would have the item was located smack in the middle of Schon-Circle. Normally, I would shudder at the thought of venturing into the netherworld of that construction zone without a Dune-Buggy, but like a gambler I was riding my successful shopping streak. My bet was staying on the table. I was not to be thwarted! I knew that I could not fail. I strode purposefully across the parking lot to the White Baleno of Justice. The ole Baleno had been giving Subaru Kazoo some difficulties lately, but I was confident as I eased her grumbling through the lower gears. I popped the tape deck into action and listened to a mix-tape that Subaru had bought from a local shop. It was labeled, "Black Music," which I soon discovered meant rap music.

I made my way down through boat-basin and waited at the intersection to make the turn toward Schon Circle. I felt kind of strange, bopping my head to Eminem and the rest of the "Black" music, but I was in a good mood… you betta bulee dat. I successfully navigated the construction site: riding the rim of a few craters and sliding down the side of one sand dune. My streak was still running, as I found a parking spot available right in front of the store. I ran in before the store closed, found exactly what I was looking for in two minutes or less. Truly, I was having the most successful shopping trip of my life.

Triumphantly, I returned to the car, which promptly failed to start. Apparently, my luck had run short. I had stayed in the game one hand too long. I should have quit while I was ahead. I should never have doubted that the life-long curse that has plagued all the shopping endeavours of my entire life would only have a slight time-delay in arriving in Pakistan.

I diligently shut off all power sources and tried the car again. Nothing. I hit the gas, and I could hear it almost catch, but not quite. Gently, I stroked the steering wheel and whispered, "C’mon ole girl," because it just seemed like the right thing to do. Sweat started dripping down my face in the confined space. I looked to the right and saw an Auntie and two kids staring at me from the nearest car, watching the show… "Will the Gora start the car? Tune in next week to find out…"

I tried again… and again. I tried to look non-chalant for my audience. I tried to look like sitting and sweating in my car while attempting to start it a few dozen times was an everyday occurrence. I floored the accelerator, I eased it, I caressed it, I cursed it, I stomped it like a drunken, redneck in a line-dance… all to no avail. Finally, just when I was sure I had flooded it, the engine caught and started. "HA!" I shouted, and turned to the family next to me and gave them a big smile and a thumbs up… at which point the car promptly stalled.

God Damn It. That’ll teach me to be cocky I said to myself, but then I added a footnote that no, it probably would not. After a few more tries, the engine turned over again, and I sat and revved it for a while. I rolled down the window, because the AC had quit (this all being due to an overheating problem). As I started off, I turned on the stereo to a resoundingly loud chorus of "MOVE BITCH – GET OUT DA WAY!" which made me smile, and hopefully traumatized a few nosey kids along the way.