The Yoga Instructor and the Crack HeadPosted: July 8, 2015
My friend Trish is a yoga instructor. She has a small yoga studio in West Knoxville where she teaches middle-age women how to be downward facing dogs, warriors and sun-saluters.
I have to say Trish is a bit of a stereotype: She actively believes in the life-force of every living thing and she is constantly telling me I have “good energy” though she “thinks I would be happier if my chakras were more aligned.” I told her I just had Goodyear align my chakras a few weeks ago, but she’s not buying it.
Monday T got up to a dead battery on her 1998 VW Golf. Turned the key, nothing. As she related the story to me, she mentioned something about the dead battery on the car being a reflection of her own recently depleted energy. Yes, she did. Really. It’s too cliche to make up.
The Universe always provides the teacher when the student is ready. Or in this case, the jumper cables. It helps if you are an attractive woman in yoga pants and a sports bra tank top.
Her neighbor, Ed, who was leaving for work at the same time, noticed her laying hands on the engine or something. He had cables and managed to get her car started. He left with a “Bless You!” from Trish, who sincerely meant it, and she was ready to drive away.
Something you should know about T: She is a perpetually bubbly, positive smile of a person. She brings energy to every room she’s in. She’s fun to hang out with. But…she’s a bit scatter brained. As a result she is in a perpetual state of distraction. Whatever time she says she will be some place is an approximation. She has no concept of time.
Except today she had a important Important she was meeting at her studio.
Being delayed, she threw her car into reverse and, with barely a look in the rear-view, arched into the street. Unfortunately for her, she made her arch a little too wide and she ended up scraping both her passenger side tires against the opposite curb, which predictably shredded the sidewalls.
Ed was already gone. When the student is ready, the tow truck will arrive.
After her call, and a call to her Important, it took the rollback from Foothills’ Wrecker just 15 minutes to get there. “Dunk” got out.
“You can shut off the car, ma’am, I’ll pull it up on the bed with the winch.”
“Well, ‘Dunk’, my battery was dead and I just jumped it, and Ed said I should make sure it ran for a while.”
“Wail OK then…” Dunk then lowered the bed, attached the cables and pulled the still running hulk onto the bed.
They rode together back to the garage, Dunk reversed the process and left the car sitting, still running, in the parking lot, parallel to the road, a bus stop bench a few feet away. Trish stood next to the car, barley noting an apparently homeless man sitting on the bench. She decided to let it run while she went into the office, fearing the battery was not sufficiently charged.
As she walked away from her car, the disheveled man on the bench jumped up, opened the car door, jumped in and sped away. At least he sped away as quickly as two destroyed tires would let him.
Trish, in her Nikes, yoga pants and sports bra tank, took off after him, trying to dial 911 as she ran. After a dozen yards she was hopelessly behind and gave up.
Knoxville’s finest showed up a few minutes later and took pursuit. They overcame the crack head in the injured car and forced him to stop. He refused to exit the vehicle so they pried him out.
Another wrecker was called and the car was taken to an actual garage, not just a tire place, where Trish was dropped by the police. Now, in addition to two blown tires, she had a broken axle and various other major and minor injuries.
I definitely think the universe is telling Trish something.