Thursday, May 1, 2014

Taking the Plunge -- by Josh

One of my very favorite stories is about a 19th century Bahá'í man from Iran who goes to a city to teach the Faith and is expelled violently by a vicious mob. He finds himself alone and hungry outside the walls of the city and, as night falls, he nestles under the shade of a tree next to the river, eager for a bit of rest.
Clearly the townsfolk had strong feelings towards him, but not all were negative.  While in the city, a merchant had been so grateful to him that he gifted a gorgeous shirt of luxurious fabric. This made a mighty nice pillow, but there was a drawback. It was the only possession the man had, and he found that as he closed his eyes, he would continually start at the slightest sound, sure that it was a group of bandits bent on robbing him of his precious shirt.
Finally, as the night wore on and he still couldn't sleep, he stood up in exasperation and hurled the shirt right into the river.
At ease once more, he drifted off and slept soundly until morning.

I think of that story often, and even more as of late.  You see, we've decided that after about three years of wearing down the rubber on the soles of our shoes, we're going to give these doggies a bit of a rest and buy a car.  We've struggled with this decision for a while, for a variety of reasons.
I mean, we've lived for three years without a car, so isn't it just superfluous?  What will the effect be on how the neighbors view us? If they think we're rich now, wait'll they see our new ride.  What about keeping it safe? And above all, how can I spend SO MUCH on a vehicle?
There is, after all, a 70% import tax on all vehicles. That's right, 70% of the value of the vehicle.  If a car would go for $10K in the U.S., as soon as it hits the docks in Santo Domingo that jumps to $17,000.
But, we're pretty sure it's worth it, and after a long and arduous search we're heading to the Capital tomorrow to pay and sign over the title (which of course requires a trip to a lawyer, as all things do).

Despite the overzealous excitement I feel when I think of being mobile once more, I can't help but think about homeboy in 19th century Iran.  Is this going to be just one more thing to be attached to, one more headache to worry about?
I guess we'll see, and if it stresses me out too much, at least I can drive to the beach now to ponder my dilemma.
The back-up plan.