While stationed at Fort Benning I owned a metallic brown metal flake 1968 Buick Wildcat. I was quite partial to that big block Buick for a couple of reasons. First, it was a big block Buick and second, that particular Buick had a “magic radio.” Perhaps you’ve heard about a magic radio and how it speaks to people, because I kid you not, that radio did speak to me. But what is even more interesting, is that the Buick Wildcat was not my only car with a magic radio. That’s right. In fact, I owned another vehicle that had a magic radio. No. I did not mention that it had a magic radio. I merely mentioned the vehicle previously. No. It was not my Fiat Spider. I want to set the record straight right now. That Fiat Spider was cursed. Well, perhaps cursed is a rather harsh word. Perhaps haunted better describes the problems that beset that vehicle. Yeah. That’s it. Haunted. That Spider was haunted. When the right sucker came along with the right stack of cash, I unloaded that piece of shit so fast it would’ve made your head spin. Your head would have spun completely around like the head of Beetlejuice in that old movie. On the bill of sale, I wrote in plain language, “ALL SALES ARE FINAL!” I made the buyer sign the bill of sale with a separate signature for the acknowledgment that all sales were final. A week later, the buyer came back and tried to get his money back. He said the car was haunted. When he was inquiring about the car before he bought it, he asked me, “why are you selling this car at such a reasonable price? You could get at least twice this much money.” I replied, “That car is haunted. If you buy it and drive it long enough, you’ll find out. That car is haunted.” The guy thought I was jerking his chain. He thought I didn’t want to sell the car. In reality, I didn’t want to sell the car. But he came to me with an offer. And his offer was very attractive, too attractive to pass up. And I jumped on it. I recognized the sucker when I saw one. So, when he came back asking for a refund, I reminded him that I had previously told him that the car was haunted. I reminded him that he had signed a bill of sale, stating that all sales were final. Full disclosure. Life’s a bitch. I told him to have a nice day and enjoy his car. I wonder how long it took him to wake up and smell the coffee and unload that beast on the next sucker that came along. Like I said, it wasn’t the Fiat Spider. It was my red Chevy van. I owned that van for 15 years, during which time it alerted me several times by calling my name. I was already sensitive to the fact that inanimate objects could potentially speak to me to alert me to danger. Cuz I had witnessed firsthand the radio in my Buick Wildcat alerting me to a potential accident near Fort Benning, Georgia. When I first became aware of the radio in my red Chevy van speaking to me, I was stationed at Fort Huachuca, Arizona. I worked as a calibration technician in the Electronic Proving Ground. Usually, at lunchtime, I would drive out to one of the fishing ponds at Fort Huachuca and take a little nap after lunch. Sometimes, I would oversleep. I was doing two sometimes three workouts a day plus a run of between four and eight miles five days a week. I was working out like that because I was preparing for Officer Candidate School (OCS). Thus, the little naps at lunchtime really gave me a boost. However, I occasionally overslept. When I did, my van’s built in alarm clock would wake me. No. The van didn’t actually have a built-in alarm clock. In fact, back in the early 1980’s, to get anything other than an AM/FM radio, you had to order the electronic stereo equipment as optional equipment. It didn’t automatically come with the vehicle. There was no navigation system. There was no satellite radio system. There was no AM/FM/cassette stereo system or AM/FM/CD disc system with auxiliary input and sync capability for your iPod or cell phone. Yeah. Vehicles didn’t have none of that bullshit. Like I said you were lucky to get a vehicle with an AM/FM radio. So, when I say it had a built-in alarm clock, I mean that the radio spoke to me, so to speak. And it only said one word, my name. That’s it. It didn’t have conversations with me. It wasn’t like that fancy ‘Kit’ car in that old TV show that even drove the car and all that other bullshit. Oh, hell no. None of that. It just said one word. My name. That’s it. And it only spoke to alert me, usually when I was asleep at lunchtime, and I needed to get back to work. Later on, when I was at the Ordnance Officer Basic Course at Aberdeen Proving Ground, Maryland, that same radio would call my name to alert me when I was contemplating a perplexing problem or when inspiration was about to strike. As I’ve grown older, I’ve no longer felt the need to rely upon inanimate objects to call my name to alert me. However, it still happens. None of my other vehicles has ever talked to me like the Buick Wildcat or the Chevy van. Now, whenever an inanimate object speaks to me, it is usually my TV calling out to me to help me out with a perplexing problem or to provide me with inspiration. Let me state for the record that I do not believe in ghosts. This is not some spirit speaking to me from the netherworld. However, several psychics have told me that I have a guardian angel. How in the hell they know that I will never know? Actually, that’s not entirely true. One psychic did show me a few of their parlor tricks. Could it be a guardian angel? I think so. I don’t have any other explanation for it. Well, actually that’s not entirely true either. I have another theory. But my wife doesn’t like me to use that theory in public. She thinks it makes me sound crazy. Perhaps she’s right. I don’t really want to be rushed off to a padded room where all the walls are white with locks on the doors in a straitjacket. Cuz I don’t think I’m ready to be labeled as crazy by society just yet. You can’t be too careful when you’re trying to dodge all of those inevitable exercises in futility.
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