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friendly.machines
friendly.machines
From: amontoya@nmsu.edu (Andrew W. Montoya)
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
Subject: Ghost in the Machine?
Date: 25 Jan 1995 12:44:13 GMT
Here are a few events that really puzzle me. One is really personal, and
I don't like admitting it, but I really would like some input on this. I
know this should probably go to alt.paranormal or something, but I'd prefer
opinions from the folks here.
I've always had a strange relationship with machines of all types. It
seems like they have a life of their own. My question is this: Can a
spirit possess an inanimate object? Or, can a person's "essence" (For lack
of a better term) permeate a machine and give it a personality? In any
case, here's a few of the things that have happened to me.
When I was in 7th grade (circa 1984), I got an ATV. I loved that thing
and would maintain it every chance I could. It provided me with countless
hours of freedom and enjoyment and my summers were heaven because of it.
It also had a mind of its own.
One instance: I hadn't been able to ride for about two weeks because
of really heavy rainfall. When I was able to ride, I went mach two on my
favorite trail, like I had many times before. This trail went along the edge
of a deep arroyo (about 20 ft deep), and I had never had problems with it.
All of a sudden, my ATV died. I tried for about a half hour to start it, to
no avail, and yet found nothing wrong with it. I reluctantly turned it around
with the thought of pushing the damn thing about two miles stewing in my head.
Then it turned on. I didn't try starting it, it just fired up on its own.
I was really freaked out and started backing away from it and up the trail I
was heading. I noticed the ground feel "loose" and when I turned and looked
at the trail, about 10 feet of it right in front of me fell into the arroyo.
The rain had undercut the trail and left only an unstable shelf. My ATV
saved me a lot of pain and perhaps my life.
There were other cases where my ATV helped me out, but this was the
most dramatic.
Now, here's a case with my first car. It was a '69 Cougar and I loved it.
Zero to Sixty in about 6 seconds and a top speed of about 140... It was
nothing to sneeze at. (circa 1988).
I had owned the car about a month when I was cruising home from school
at about 120 mph (stupid thing to do, I know). The car up and died at 120 mph.
I was pissed, needless to say. My first though was, "Shit! I bought a lemon."
Right about the time it slowed to 50 mph (Still 5mph over the speed limit),
a cop passed by. Once the cop passed, (you guessed it) it fired up again and
I was cruising right along again (much slower than before). I miss my car...
About my bicycle... I HATE my bike. I loathe the damn thing and regret
the day I bought it. It doesn't like me either... nor my friends... nor my
family... I wreck about every other time I ride it. I loaned it to a friend
for a semester and he had three collisions with pedestrians and several
non-aggrevated, single-bike wrecks. My mom was visiting and she dropped a
tissue near the bike. When she stooped to pick it up, the damn bike fell on
her. I'd sell the God-forsaken thing, but I wouldn't want to curse anyone
with it.
My pistol.... Hmm, here's the really personal thing I mentioned earlier,
but it was also the most sobering and shocking. Okay, I love my pistol. It
gives me plenty of shooting enjoyment and it even saved me from would-be
muggers at a rest area.
Here's some background: Prior to this incident, I owned it for a couple
of years and it had NEVER malfunctioned on me (For those curious, it is a
Glock Model 20 (10mm)). The only problems I've ever had with it have been
ammunition problems, not mechanical.
Here's the story: Let's just say that '93 was a bad year and '94 wasn't
looking any better. I was depressed and drunk-- a bad combination (circa
March, 1994). So, I drove out into the desert to discover if there was
truly an afterlife. After sitting in my car for about an hour contemplating
and praying, I charged the pistol, put it to my head, and pulled the trigger.
--CLICK--
It took me a minute or two to realize that I wasn't dead. I pulled the
slide on the pistol back, the bullet fell to the floor of the car and a
new one slid into the barrel. I thought a little more and realized what
a stupid thing I was trying to do. I rolled down my window, pointed the gun
out, and pulled the trigger: --BANG-- I squeezed again: --BANG-- Twelve
more --BANG's-- and the gun was empty. I thought some more about it and
fished around the floor and found the unfired bullet, thinking I was saved
by a dud. Upon examining it, I discovered that the primer wasn't even
touched... The pistol simply didn't work when I pointed it at myself. The
really weird thing about that is that the trigger had clicked, it wasn't
jammed or anything. It was as if something kept the firing pin from hitting
the bullet. I keep that bullet with me to remind me what I almost did and
how STUPID it was. My gun hasn't malfunctioned since.
Finally, here's what made me think of writing this: Today I got in my
car to go to class and it didn't start. I couldn't find a ride and I sure
as hell wasn't gonna ride my friggin' bike. I found out later that class
was canceled. The car started up this afternoon without any problems.
I know this was minor compared to the other incidents, but it made me
reflect upon my relationship with machines.
Well, that's my post for now. Let's see if the computer lets me send
it. If it does, please send me any comments and ideas as to what's
going on here. I am in no way complaining about these weird things, I'm
just curious. Have a good morining and thanks for listening.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
- Drew | "...I guess they'd rather be alive -
- amontoya@NMSU.edu | than free... Poor dumb bastards." -
- | -- 8-Ball, Full Metal Jacket -
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