Trust the Universe, Receive A Car
Finding Matan #3
This is a tad ironic given the content of my previous blog post. You all probably thought I was like a hitchhiking purist after that 10-minute diatribe about the virtues of hitchhiking.
Well, forget all of that because having a car is infinitely better than hitchhiking.
A couple of weeks ago, I bought a 2004 Holden Commodore station wagon. Her name is Suzy and she’s fucking beautiful.
We’re perfect for each other: she takes me from Point A to Point B and I provide her with the purest Unleaded petrol. Truly a symbiotic relationship.
Even though hitchhiking was fun and always interesting, it was extremely limited and often difficult. Turns out being completely dependent on total strangers’ benevolence isn’t the most effective way to travel a country.
The truth is that having your own car opens up so many doors that are 100 times as hard to attain without a car. I would never have seen places like this without my car.
Also, the public transport in Australia is virtually nonexistent so if you’re a restless person, like me, you’ll find yourself feeling incredibly confined. After hitchhiking 8 times, it became clear I needed a bloody car.
However, finding a car via platforms like Gumtree, Craigslist, and the Backpacker Cars group on Facebook proved to be incredibly difficult. Most of those posts are just wankers trying to upsell a car with like 400,000 miles on it to some mechanically ignorant backpacker who’s got some extra cash.
Half of those transactions end up with the car exploding in your face and you losing thousands of dollars.
But as much as I would like to credit my business savvy (and Technology Management degree) for Suzy’s arrival into my life, I must admit that my willingness to trust the universe is the only reason I own this car. Which leads me to the overarching theme of this post:
Keep your eyes open to what’s in front of you. And say yes.
This story begins on a night where I went to the local tavern alone. And before you assume I’m some saddo alcoholic who regularly does this sort of thing, you should know this was my first time ever doing it. Sure I’ve done it a couple times since but I swear I don’t even like drinking that much.
Anyways, after 5 minutes of standing around, awkwardly bobbing my head to the band exuding mediocrity, I was feeling painfully aware that I was alone at a bar. Desperate for any form of human interaction, I ventured outside to bum a cigarette off someone.
Which is how I met Tony.
Seeing that he was standing alone smoking a hand-rolled cigarette, I thought he would be the easiest person to ask. At first glance, there was nothing especially unique about him. He was a 48 year old Aussie bloke who had a couple of earrings and steely blue eyes.
The only reason I approached him is because he was the first person I saw. Any other night, I would have introduced myself to someone closer in age, hung out with them for 20 minutes, and then watched them disappear back into the ether, never to be seen again.
But the universe had other plans for me that night.
I asked if I could roll my own cigarette, introduced myself, and shook his hand. Then I remembered I’m godawful at rolling papers so I asked him to roll me one. I have poor fine motor skills! I swear it’s a real thing.
After some small talk, I off-handedly mentioned that I’d been hitchhiking and how exciting it had been. Tony then scared the shit out of me by telling me all about Ivan Milat, famed Australian serial killer known for killing foreigners.
A little spooked, I told him I actually was looking for a car, but I was struggling to find any good deals. With a sly grin, he responded,
“Mate it’s your lucky day, I’ve been a mechanic for 30 years. Also, have you looked on Facebook Marketplace? Only dumb fucking idiots buy cars from backpackers.”
We laughed, smoked another cigarette, and then he did something I didn’t expect. He gave me his number and offered to help me find the perfect car so I “wouldn’t think all Australians were miserable cunts”. Ever the cynical American, I thought to myself “yeah ok, whatever you say man”.
Fast forward a few days and I’ve found a $1200 2001 Ford Falcon on the side of the highway. To my surprise, Tony answered my phone call and actually agreed to come check it out.
The Falcon was a piece of shit, but I was desperate and thought I could bargain it down to $1000. Sure, the backseat didn’t fold down and there were coffee beans scattered throughout the interior, but it was a car, and it was affordable, which is all that really mattered to me.
Tony and I took it out for a spin, and despite the front wheels being dangerously worn down, the radio and temperature gauge not working, and the interior smelling like a million farts, I was still willing to buy this car.
Upon our return, I told Gunther (the seller) I would pay $1000 because of all the issues listed above. Acting all high and mighty, he responds “That’s the first I hear of the radio not working”.
Alarm bells start going off in my head that this guy might be a motherfucker. Recalibrating, I look down at Gunther’s shoes and notice they’re covered in dirt and possibly fecal matter, making me even more suspicious of him.
Tony turns on the ignition and immediately sees the head gasket is boiling, which explains why the temperature gauge was conveniently disconnected. In his words, “this car is a sack of shit that’s not even worth $80”.
This development called for a few cigarettes.
I send Gunther on his merry way with a promise that I will think about the car and get back to him as soon as possible.
Essentially, a polite “fuck-off, GUNTHER”. What kind of name is Gunther, anyways? Wanker.
The next morning, Gunther calls to tell me his mechanic said the car didn’t have a cracked head gasket (not what we’d seen), and told me to find a new mechanic because “that Tony guy was a weirdo”.
That was all the confirmation I needed to know Gunther really was the kind of guy who didn’t scrape the shit off of his shoes.
Crisis averted, I consigned myself to the continuation of my hitchhiking adventures. At least I’d have some more blog content.
But a few days later, Tony calls me and tells me he found “the perfect car” for only $1200 up in Yamba, only over 100 miles up the highway. He told me Adrian (the seller) knew his mother and lived close to where he grew up. When I asked if he‘d actually seen the car he replied:
“Naw it’s the perfect car mate, I’m never wrong. Trust me.”
So I faced a big choice; trust this near stranger who I’d spent all of 40 minutes with, or keep hitchhiking around like a goddamn hippy. It wasn’t obvious then but looking back now, it was clearly some trust in the universe type shit.
Sometimes, the right path to follow is impossible to see and simultaneously totally obvious. Instinctually, I knew that Tony’s connection to Adrian and the circumstances of our acquaintance were positive indicators that good fortune was coming my way. But I still looked for any way to discredit that feeling.
In America, you balk at trusting strangers because trusting others is often portrayed as a naive, gullible endeavor. Why do you think nobody hitchhikes anymore? Our society no longer prioritizes looking out for one another. I’ll save that rant for another blog post, though.
Thankfully, I remembered that I’m not in America and decided to just say FUCK IT. With those sentiments in mind, I embarked on a thrilling 6 hour bus-train-bus journey to Yamba. That journey, and spending an hour in Grafton (total shithole), convinced me that my days of being a hitchhiking hippy needed to come to an end.
There was no way I was gonna do that commute again.
When I met Adrian and his family, I understood the universe had been looking out for me. I took the car out on a spin, saw a pack of kangaroos, and felt that baby purr. Unlike 90% of all the other cars backpackers purchase out here, Suzy amazingly had no issues. Truly a Christmas miracle. (Knock on car)
After spending the happiest sleepless night of my entire life in the car, I stopped for a celebratory 7 AM french fries breakfast at McDonald’s and drove to Tony’s house. The night before I’d left, he’d given me his actual address and told me to come over after to help calm my nerves about buying the car.
As we sat on his porch chain-smoking cigarettes and talking about life, I couldn’t help but marvel that I was there with him. None of my wildest fantasies about Australia had ever included hanging out with a hilarious, 48 year old mechanic from Coffs Harbour. Moments like these help me appreciate there’s no point in trying to guess where life will take you.
Because of the emergency level fires here, Tony generously invited me to stay at his house for 3 days. I was blessed to get to know him, his wife, and his 3 daughters on a deeply personal level.
This is what traveling is all about; trusting that wherever the wind takes you will be the place you need to go. Beautiful things can happen to you from people and places you never would have expected. You just need to keep your eyes open and be ready to go along for the ride.
If you’re not willing to put yourself out there and just see where it takes you, you might never find whatever you’re truly looking for.
Check out the book and song for this post! Threw it back with some Blink. This book is really short but it was truly perspective-altering content. Also, I’m really excited about the next blog post. Stay tuned or beware; it’s on some thoughts I have about spirituality.
