Wrenched

So here's the deal, I don't exactly have a precise image or idea of god, but it's days like today that help me realize that there's something out there.

I hit up the Bike shop around the corner from my house this morning on my way to work. I wasn't too excited about having to buy a new wheel, so I was already kinda in a mood.

I'm riding from Berkeley to MacArthur Bart, you know, some excercise. By the time I get to Oakland, my rear wheel is rubbing up against the rear fork!

Immediate resentment. Those c*********s! They didn't tighten the rear wheel enough! Then thoughts of what I'm gonna say when I call them to give 'em a piece of my mind. You know, what are they gonna give me for free? I want my money back! Don't they know who I think I am?!

So I hit up a couple convenience stores to ask if they have wrenches. Nobody's got one. How inconvenient! So as I'm stewing in my fury, I had a realization. I hate feeling this way. This anger shit's for the birds.

I look toward the sky and say aloud: "God, or whatever's out there, give me a new angle on this thing. This isn't who I wanna be."

As I'm standing on Sacramento street, my situation hopeless, I light a smoke. I look to my right and there's Hispanic fellow getting out of his pickup. No way, right?

I approach him and as I'm asking him for help, pointing to my bicycle, he hands me the tool he already had in his hand. An adjustable wrench.

A few minutes later as I'm riding off on my merry way, the question comes to me: "Does god provide me with tools to make my life easier when I seek him/her/it/them?"


- Eric Was Here -

Bart

So it's Saturday night, and I arrive at Macarthur BART station coming from North Concord on my way home from work.

At thus particular station, to transfer one must go downstairs to the concourse and back upstairs to the other platform. This takes about a minute with a bicycle (the new love of my life).

Being courteous, and following protocol, I look for the car with the smallest number of people. I end up at the last car and proceed to enter the car.

I get the front tire in and then bam! The doors begin to close. I look left to the train operator with confusion. I motion to open the door and the doors seal shut and away they go into the dark and I'm left there all alone.

Who am I gonna freak out on at BART? What's the 800 number again? Where's the attendant? I'm gonna get a free ride somehow! I'm gonna be compensated!! These are the thoughts that crowd into my head. I'm going to explode!!! Someone will pay for what's been done to me!

Fuming, I march right downstairs to give someone a piece of my mind. Then come the thoughts of a blissful relapse on cigarettes. Oh how a smoke would just fix everything right now.

Paradigm shift: What if there are people on the train with greater needs than I? What if the moment not wasted on reopening the doors for me meant a kid got to see his Mom or Dad that much sooner? How vain can a guy be? Who am I to feel so entitled? I'm like the guy who calls the cable company trying to get HBO for free because I feel the need to hold the world and it's people accountable for a human mistakes.

Maybe I'm on to something. As a result of the resentment at BART and the racing thoughts about smoking, I rode like hell up California St. from MacArthur BART to north Berkeley. Then had a cigarette upon arrival.

It's an everyday occurrance I'm sure and really no big deal, but it's kinda fun to ponder the thought process from "How could you do this to me?" to "Maybe someone will benefit from my inconvenience."

Cigarettes: 1, Eric: 0.

Location:Briarwood Way,Walnut Creek,United States