Rose Colored Glasses - Chapter 2
THE CHARIOT RIDE
Her thoughts were interrupted by Polly's cry of, "Look, someone’s coming."
Sure enough, coming toward them was a small, tire-less vehicle. It floated above the ground without so much as a whisper. It landed in front of them and a man with flaming red hair and an Irish accent told them to get in. Both girls hesitated, looked at each other, questioning what they should do.
“Oh, get in, now, me ladies,” he said, “I’m way pass worldly ways. Anyway, I have this here parchment, from our Heavenly Father, telling me to pick you up.” They glanced at the scroll in his hand. Its words were written in gold and in a language that they could not decipher. How could they know what it said?
Rolling his eyes, in exasperation, the Irish Angel said, “Ye be, Rebecca Kellum and Polly Smith, now does that satisfy ye?”
The girls said nothing but, apprehensively, boarded the craft, and within minutes found them selves entering a beautiful, breathtaking, little town of fountains, and over-hanging gardens. The craft came to a sudden stop, throwing both of his passengers forward with a sudden thud.
“Oops,” was all that the Irish Angel, Shawn, could say. He only hoped that the Lord wasn’t watching, because the Boss had warned him, many times, about those sudden stops, which could result in the loss of his wings. Sure, it was his fault, but he couldn’t help it. He had been born with a hot rod foot and it had followed him all the way to Eden, the City that was one step outside the gate to Heaven.
He was 19, and it was the year 1952, when it happened there on a country road in Ireland. He had taken his self-bought birthday present, an American hot rod out for a joy ride. He had worked double jobs for over two years to get the down payment for that car. He had even bought a black leather jacket just like the hot rodders wore on television.
The problem occurred when he kept speeding up and then jamming hard on the brake to get that sudden jolt like the American kids did. He tried to do that while coming down a steep hill and that is when he lost control of the car and said goodbye to this world. Darn those American hot rods, it was entirely their fault. Put the blame where it belonged was his motto, and that is exactly what the Heavenly Board of Inquiry did when they told him that the accident was entirely his own fault because he had never learned how to drive.
He couldn’t seem to accept the truth, so he was destined to drive until he could get it right. Unless things changed, this job was eternal. Oh, well, I might as well get on with it. |
