Part 7: Why Am I Not Shot?

As much as I bitch and moan about having only a lifestyle and not a life I continue on with my wicked ways. One always has to have a direction or face exploding - the conundrum of this world. So what do I do? What I do best: spend money. I love watching Overhaulin' but I'd always said I'd never want a car from Chip Foose. Resto-mods (restored but with heavy modifications) ain't my thing. I like old cars to be time machines, to transport me into an era I never got to experience. But then I found an exception: cars not worth restoring back to original spec.

I already own completely original Maserati Meraks but when I saw this rotted out one I got an idea. Why not do a resto-mod and make this as bad ass as possible? So that's exactly what I did. And it is awesome. Horsepower is over twice the original with upgraded suspension/brakes/transmission. Interior seats were tweaked for more lumbar and the body went through full media blast before repaint in a light silver fleck. Couldn't wait to get it back from the Gas Monkey boys!

Took it down on a road trip to Austin to stretch its legs. Alice In Wonderland being my favorite book I went to see a premiere collection of Alice memorabilia at the University of Texas on the 150th anniversary of publication. Ate at a cool Austin join named Hoovers then on to the wonderland before heading back at the speed of sound. New engine waaaaails! I love this car that can now compete with modern sports cars. (Only compromise was the tires. Not ruining the look with low profile 20 inchers!)

In Austin, one looks for cool, not expensive

Was dark when I got back. Was as much a mind trip as a road trip. With the distraction gone, heading back to the hotel room seemed exceptionally pointless. May as well spend the night roaming the streets. But I was tired, resigning myself to my gilded cage. Seeing the Alice exhibit was painful. What have I done to contribute? My domain is only of this world. "When Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept for there were no more worlds to conquer." Alas, only art is timeless.

Next day at the warehouse I took out my customized Mercedes Sprinter van. I take it out and park in places just to be in a place no one knows where I am. I draw the curtains and listen to folks pass by at White Rock lake. It was only then I felt safe enough to do something that made my heart pound. I felt like a criminal returning to the scene of the crime. "Careful, you could get convicted!" But sometimes, you just gotta know.

Just what would I do without my many millions?

Trolling through the craigslist employment ads was a horror show such as I'd never imagined. Why aren't people pissed as hell? Talk about exploiting your masses. Hump, scrub, lift and hawk wares in indentured servitude for life. Ten bucks an hour?? Hell, I tip the valet more than that. How does anyone survive on those wages? How do they have kids? I completely do not understand. These fuckers at the top will crush you! Believe me, I know. Do you really expect fairness for hard work? Wow, just wow.

'Tis dangerous going down the rabbit hole

Predatory. Sadistic. Parasitic. The jungle decay is far worse than I ever feared or dare imagine. It has always eaten at me on my times of ostentatious displays of wealth. Part of me expects to hear Lenin's cry of "Loot the looters!" and then off with my head - or worse, my Maserati. But, damn. Now I'm really scared. Are people going to take this shit forever? The world as it is now is Pharaoh's wet dream. Unions are hated and workers are willing slaves. Trust me, show me someone who promotes hard work for others and I'll show you a lazy bum. I hear it all the time.

None of the joggers or bike riders who passed by knew I was in the van but suddenly I felt my whole world shrink. I couldn't help but feel that at any moment an angry mob would start rocking my vehicle, overturning it and start chasing me down the street. My hands began to sweat. My hidden escape a claustrophobic trap. The famed silver star up front nothing but a bullseye. Oh, shit!

I could see my chest heaving up and down as I lay on the floor. The whole world seemed spinning around me. This isn't going to last, is it? We're headed for a fall like never seen before in the age of Man. This is what's been bubbling below the surface for me for so long. Everyone else senses it too, scrambling to grab what they can before the clock strikes midnight. Love really is the only thing we can take with us.

When I finally got up from my altered state I peeked out the window but the world was none the wiser to my epiphany. None the wiser to the one coming their way either! Still I felt it prudent to get the hell out of there before I was lynched. I just couldn't shake that feeling. One thing I knew for sure: either the world was off kilter or I was; my outlook skewed permanently.

The thought wouldn't stop hounding me: Why am I not shot? I have to know! I have to know or I can never walk freely down the street again. Why is it around the world a rich man lives on one side of the street and a starving man on the other and revolution doesn't break out? Oh, there have been upheavals in the name of justice and equality but none of them have been true. All the stats show the rich get richer and poor get poorer with each passing day. What gives?

Then it hit me.

Everybody wants to be the rich man. Everybody wants my deal. Spoil it for me and it's gone for you. Like I said before, every life has to have a direction, something to live for. But are people's lives so empty they'd be willing to live in chains just for the idea of keeping the rich man's dream alive? Everyone tells me dreams aren't important but in the end, they determine everything, from living to dying. I only wish I could find mine.