Living Life In Mercury Retrograde
Forty-one years after showing up, our universe continues to
astound me. (It might be longer if you want to consider past lives- a
completely different story for another time.) The previous week is a fine
example of the ongoing astonishment.
Wednesday evening I was heading north on I-79 in
Pennsylvania, back to our remote yard just due west of Pittsburgh. In the final
hour of that drive, my thoughts began to wonder. I was thinking about a chapter
of my book, “Lessons From The Road” that I have been working on. I wondered if
it was a necessary chapter. Should I bother to include it? It involves a girl
from my distant past, when I was around the ages of 14-15. She was the first
girl to break my heart. I see no point in writing the chapter here, but I
will say that my thoughts turned to her and our time together. Not many people,
not even my wife, know much of that story. I cannot remember her name after all
of these years, but I can still remember how she made me feel- a statement that
gives true meaning to Maya Angelou’s quote of “I've learned that
people will
forget what you said, people will
forget what you did, but people will
never forget how you made them feel.”
Cruising north, I mentally reviewed our life
together, parts of which were pretty crazy. I recalled the last telephone call
I got from her. I wondered where she is today and how she is doing. It was a
pretty intense afternoon drive. Before I arrived at my destination, I concluded
that I should keep that chapter in the book. It’s an important part of my story
and in addition to that, I’d like to see what I have to say on the matter and
review the lessons that came about from the ordeal.
When I arrived at our drop yard, I parked my
rig and took a quick hit of my mental crack, also known as Facebook. I like to
see what my peeps are up to. Why am I explaining that? If you’re a Facebook
user, you know what I am talking about. If you’re not a Facebook user, you know
what I am talking about. Anyway, I read a story posted by a local news station,
WFMZ. It was about a lady that made a very hard landing in a helicopter at
Lehigh Valley International Airport in Allentown, PA. She was okay from what I
read, but was still taken to a local hospital for minor injuries. When I read
news stories, I enjoy reading comments from other readers. It offers insight on
how other people think and quite often they are very good. (This does not
always apply to political news. It’s often a shouting match which really does
seem like “someone” is out to divide and conquer.) I read the comments from the
helicopter crash and this is where it gets weird (or for me, really cool.) A
reader posted the following, “Believe it or
not.....Mercury Retrograde. It effects a lot of electronics. Its not a good
time to be traveling. Have you noticed how many cars and trucks are broke down
on the road lately too? Don't know what it is....Google it.”
I never heard of “Mercury
Retrograde” so I Googled it. The Farmer’s Almanac was the first site I visited,
followed by several others to confirm what I was learning. They were all in
agreement: Mercury Retrograde is an astronomical time (current period June 7th
to July 2nd) when the planet Mercury appears to be going backward,
even though it really is not. According to astrologists, things can go awry during
this period. I shook my head. My week has been fantastic so far, my whole month
has! I went on to learn that intuition can be high and it’s also a good time to
reflect and make conclusions. My eyebrows shot straight up. I had just spent
the prior hour thinking about a relationship in my distant past and had made a
conclusion. I was blown away.
I’ve never been much into
astrology other than to know I am a Sagittarius, which makes me really awesome.
(Don’t believe me, Google it!) I feel like maybe I should pay more attention to
the stars now that I know some parts indeed seem to coincide with what’s
actually happening with my life. It was a neat afternoon of learning for me. I
fell in love with our universe a little more that day. But the rest of that
stuff, like plans going awry, or the reader’s comments of broken down vehicles
and warnings of it’s not a good time to be traveling? Nonsense. Everything is
perfect in my world 24/7.
The next morning my truck was
hooked up to a fresh box of furniture by 7am. I looked forward to another fun
day touring the Pittsburgh region. I pushed in the brakes, pulled up far enough
from the trailers on either side of me and began a left turn toward the yard’s
exit. I looked in the mirror and noticed
something was in fact, very awry. Why did it not look like the marker lights on
the trailer were illuminated? I was certain they were on a few minutes ago when
I did my pre-trip walk around. I checked the headlight switch. It was on. WHY
AREN’T THE LIGHTS ON?
I set the brakes and jumped out.
A visual check verified the marker lights around the top of the trailer were
on, but nothing on the bottom except for turn signals and brake lights (I stuck
a small bat between the driver’s seat and the brake pedal to check.) There I
stood, muttering, “Mercury Retrograde” the same way Seinfeld mutters, “Newman…”
I checked the light cord at both the trailer and the truck. I wiggled them a
hundred times. Nothing. I had decisions to make. Legally, I shouldn’t leave the
yard. Everything has to work. If the fellows (or ladies) at the Department of
Transportation happened to pull me over for an inspection, my goose would be
cooked. I would get a fine, and my
commercial driver’s score would be lowered which in turn would drag down my
company’s score landing me in serious hot water. Legalities aside, I also had
intuition, which supposedly was working well during this astronomical period.
My intuition told me it was a daylight local trip, I had turn signals and brake
lights, and I knew my route would take me where there were not any weigh
stations. The likelihood of being pulled over for a random inspection was low.
I concluded I should start the route and trouble shoot the issue with phone
calls during the day. If that didn’t work, I would hit up a truck shop that
happened to be on the property upon my return.
My first suspect was a blown
fuse. That theory was backed up with a phone call to my buddy Gmazz who works
from our New England yard. At my second stop, I pried off the fuse box cover on
the dashboard of my truck, certain I was about to solve the problem and do a
happy dance. I looked at the schematic on the top of the cover and noticed
there was not a fuse labeled “Trailer marker lights” as there was on my old
truck. Anything light related now read, “Light control module 1, light control
module 2” and so on. I closed up the cover with frustration and moved on to the
next stop.
I called Gmazz and relayed what I
saw. He also has a new truck and wasn’t sure why there was not a fuse labeled
“Trailer marker lamps.” It was a very stressful predicament. I don’t like
running unless everything is as it should be. I felt shady driving around, even
though nothing was obvious to the general public. Paranoia was my co-pilot.
Finally, I got the bright idea to
call our shop in Wisconsin. We’re supposed to call them first when we break
down alongside the road, so surely they would be able to offer some
suggestions. I called and spoke with a gentleman who shall remain innocent to
protect his you’ll see why later. Here is an actual transcript of our
conversation:
“Breakdown this is ****.”
“Hi ****. This is Jason, a
Leesport driver. I’m having a trailer light issue and am wondering if you can
help me with some suggestions.”
“Okay.”
“I have no marker lights on the
bottom of the trailer. The only fuses I can find in the fuse box are labeled ‘light
modules.’ There isn’t one that says, ‘Trailer marker lamps’ like on my old
truck. Do you know which fuse it might
be?”
“Not without looking at it, no.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll check all the
fuses and see what I can find.”
“Sounds good. Give a call back if
you can’t find anything and we’ll find somewhere to have it looked at.”
It wasn’t the helpful phone call
I had hoped it would be. I finished the trip and made it back to the yard
safely. With all other options exhausted, I drove across the parking lot to the
shop. I had never been there before, but quickly found a mechanic who looked
like he had worked a full day. He was completely covered in grease and grime.
(He would later tell me he also recently took a bath in diesel fuel.) I
explained my issue. He retrieved a tool used to check the light cord that plugs
in between the truck and trailer. He checked both ends and asked, “This is a
weird question, but do you know where your fuses are? Are they under the dash
or under the hood?” I told him they were under the dash. He handed me the fuse tester,
explained how to use it and informed me he didn’t want to go inside my truck
dirty as he was. That was mighty cool of him. (I actually knew how the tester
worked- I cannot fault him for giving me the run down because I know that I
give off an odor of mechanical retardation.) I tested every fuse. Not one was
bad. My mechanic friend said he didn’t know much about Volvos, but guaranteed it
was something silly. I agreed, we said our goodbyes and I drove back to where I
came from, ready for bed and the end of Mercury Retrograde.
Friday morning arrived, and still
no resolution. Gmazz told me to try shutting off all power to the truck by
turning a lever located by the batteries. He said to do it for five minutes
because, “It resets the light modules and worked for someone else.” I tried
that at my first stop. No luck. En route to my third stop, I decided to call
our mechanic in Leesport, Trevor, to see if he had any suggestions. I would be
driving as late as I could trying to get home, unless it got dark, then I would
have to stop early because of my lack of lights. Unfortunately, I got his
voicemail when I called, so I left a message describing the issue and asked if
he had any advice. Within ten minutes, he returned my call. Here’s an actual
transcript of that call:
“Did you check the fuses under
the hood?”
“No. I didn’t know there were any
fuses under the hood.”
“Yeah…2012 and later they put a
box under the hood. It’s where all the trailer related fuses are. Volvo put it
there so that if you have any light-related issues, a dirty and grimy mechanic
would not have to go inside your truck. I bet that’s your problem. I’m sorry I
forgot to tell you that.”
I was in total disbelief at the
words that just came out of his mouth. Most of all, I wondered why in the world
didn’t that guy at our shop in Wisconsin tell me the same thing? I thanked Trevor
and told him I would let him know if that was the problem.
I could not wait to get to my next stop and
find that damn fuse box. When I got to the next customer, I backed into the
dock, shut off the truck and opened the hood. There sat the fuse box, right
where I never knew it was. I opened it up and immediately found one labeled, “Trailer
marker lamps.” I was trying to remove it when one of the receiving fellows
pulled up in a golf cart asking what happened. I explained the previous few
days of paranoia and frustration centered around a fuse I couldn’t find until
right now. He said, “You smell a little mechanically retarded. Let me get that
for you.” He got a needle nosed pliers from his cart and pulled the fuse. Sure
enough, it was blown. We popped a new one in, the lights came on and I finally
got to do my happy dance.
So, why did that fuse blow? It’s
an odd thing to happen on a brand-new truck with only 15,000 miles on it, isn’t
it? The answer is easy: I have concluded that it is all because I read that readers
comment where she wrote about broken down things and warnings of it not being a
good time to travel. As much as I didn’t want to believe that, I think a small
part of my consciousness considered it something that could actually happen. The
universe saw an opening, teamed up with my star friends and let Mercury
Retrograde have some fun at my expense. I also believe that Mercury Retrograde
is the reason my friend at our truck shop in Wisconsin did not tell me
something he probably knew.
As I take a moment to reflect on this odd set of events,
I’m left asking myself, “If I could go back and not read that story about a
girl and her helicopter, followed by the reader comments, would I simply ignore
it?” That’s another easy answer: Absolutely not. It would have been a boring
week. I would have returned home without a story to tell or learned once
again, just how marvelous our universe truly is.
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