Lost, Broken or Stolen

by Steve Mitchell

I once heard (or, more likely, I once saw on TV) Buddhist monks consider all their possessions already lost, broken or stolen.

Or maybe I dreamed it.

Anyhow.

It’s a good philosophy, a way of avoiding attachments to material things which can’t endure.

I remember when my first new motorcycle fell over in the carport.

AAAiiiyyyeeeeee!!!!

The bike was less than two weeks old.  I was aghast.  I was mortified.

But then, once I cooled down, I was sort of relieved.  I could quit worrying about the shiny and just ride the bike.  ”It’s a working bike, now.”

I’m thinking about it because the shiny, red, oh-so-pretty, sports car I bought yesterday is slowly revealing itself to me.  It’s not a new car.  Oh, no.  It’s seen some miles.  Yes indeed.

Mechanically *knock on wood* it’s pretty sound.  It goes like stink.  Nothing rattles or shakes which you wouldn’t expect to rattle or shake on a convertible.  It has a sweet sounding exhaust note and a nice road feel.

But, oh, look, the front bra is frayed on one edge.  And there’s a crack in the center console.  Ooh, and the shift knob feels oddly glued.  And, well, I knew the passenger visor was broken.  And, hey, one of the attachment points on the top has a broken rivet.  And dig it, the key fob batteries are dead.

What else?

I’m sure there’s more.  I know I’ll find more.

It’s a teeny bit aggravating.  I’m no Buddhist.

But, it’s not mortifying.  After all, it’s been driven.  As shiny as it is, it’s a working car.  I can fix what I can fix and, otherwise, I’ll just drive the dang thing.

I’m kind of a relieved.