Gospel’s Drive

“This is Family Radio”, said the words streaming out of the car speakers.  “God does not owe us an apology for life’s sorrows…”, the static sound fluttered in spurts as it continued on.  My driver, a fifty year old man who had left Nigeria six years earlier, fiddled with the knob, turning up the volume control, in vain, hoping for a clearer sound.  He mumbled under his breath and repeated the monotonous bible chatter with deep conviction, bobbing his head from side to side. He seemed spiritually lost in a cloud of angelic euphoria, forgetting for just a moment that we were rather in a vehicle lost in a cloud of demonic dysphoria, stuck in New York City traffic.  I couldn’t help but wonder, as I stared out the window at passing cars, the huge flashing billboard advertisements.  “The Gentlemen’s Club”, read one sign -with sexy, red bikini clad, voluptuous models, innocently fingering their luscious, shimmering red lips, enticing drivers along the Henry Hudson Parkway.. “Repent now!”, continued the static filled gospel station.  “Do you want to be saved?”, asked the speaker. “Saved from what?”, I thought.  And then, at that sudden moment, I felt the car swerve dangerously into the left lane, hoping to avoid an oncoming eighteen wheeler whizzing by at a speed of seventy mph, just missing us by mere inches.