Within 24 hours I managed to sin in numerous unusual ways. First, I took the road less traveled–except by experienced tour drivers in automatic transmission vans–and scare the living daylights out of more people than appropriate. When I wrote yesterday that I pealed out, it wasn’t a little screech–it was rubber and big screech, since I was afraid I would stall out in my manual transmission on a very steep incline. What I forgot to confess was this: later in that trip, I did not want to turn around between the mountain and the cliff dropping to the sea far below, and since the rule keeper in our family was waiting with our guest, Carolyn, way down the hill, I drove forward to the very top of the hill, only to discover that it was the site of a historic gunnery with a turnstile in the center where the cannon was placed and in the old days could be turned to shoot in different directions by turning the turnstile. There was no one there, except for a few British tourists, at least they looked British and it was a British built gunnery. So I kind of drove the car on the turnstile to turn around. After all, if it works for a cannon, why not a car? The British tourists must have liked it–they were taking lots of pictures. I was a little nervous, however, with the guy taking pictures of the license plate. That was sin one.
Sin two occurred at the entrance to a confectionarie. I did not see a small step down and fell across a stroller at the entrance. Yes, the baby was inside. I think quickly and fell to miss the baby. The baby was not hurt nor was I. Since I did not do this on purpose, it probably was not a real sin.
Sin three was making my wife and Carolyn stand in such a way that they hid a person and a trash receptacle that I did not want in the picture. Kathy said the trash receptacle behind her made her behind too big. I responded that sometimes we have to sacrifice our personal beauty for the beauty of the picture.
Is driving a Spain-only rental car into another country a sin, if you did not realize you were in another country until it was too late? Who knew that Gibraltar on the southern tip of Spain is actually Great Britain? My clue came when they asked for my passport and inquired what I was declaring. I said I wasn’t declaring anything until I confessed on Ash Wednesday. The unamused guard said next time read the signs and “carry on.” Evidently there was a car lane for folks who had goods to declare and a lane for nothing to declare and I was in the wrong lane. Those of you following the blog know I intended to stop immediately, but missed the parking spot, got lost and ended up on a harrowing journey.
Ash Wednesday is tomorrow. I’ll confess those sins and a few more in the beautiful Saint Magdalena Church which has historic ties to the New World back in the explorer days.