So, to make a long story short, I have been trying to track down a functional automobile for an acquaintance who just got laid off from his job and whose car died the next week. I thought being a priest I might be able to pull a few strings. After finagling some people who know some people in the ministerial association and various social work organizations, I got word that someone was willing to donate an automobile. I was dubious, but perhaps there was some goodnatured, philanthropist soul who had a functional, short term automobile. "
"Oh, I assure you, Father...the car runs well and has a clear title."
So I arranged to look at the automobile and pick it up if that assertion was correct. (You so know where this is going to end.) I went down to the dept. of labor and talked to someone who knew the social worker in the next building. They handed me the keys and the title and told me the car was "in the back lot."
So I started looking in the lot, and in a scene that I can only describe by quoting the Johnny Cash song, "The Man Comes Around" which is loosely based on the Book of Revelation, "And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts, And I looked and behold: a pale horse. And his name, that sat on him, was Death. And Hell followed with him."
Behold, a 1983 Ford Escort station wagon in rust form. After having to jimmy the door open, I cranked the car (on the 6th attempt). Halfway across the parking lot, a heard "the whirlwind in the thorn tree" as the bumper fell off. I got out and looked and realized it had been bungee corded on. So after getting that back on, I cranked it again and drove around the parking lot to turn around, and the car died in the entrance to the parking lot. I mean utterly died, as in "Voices callin', voices cryin'. Some are born an' some are dyin'. It's Alpha's and Omega's Kingdom come."
As I am sitting there trying to get it cranked long enough to get it back to the parking space, what appeared to be a homeless walks up and goes, "Need some help there, Father?" So the homeless guy and I pushed it to the curb out of traffic's way. "It measured hundredweight and penny pound. When the man comes around"
Needless to say I went back in and said, "Thanks but no thanks." I think my acquaintance has enough problems."
And the moral of the story, "If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is."