The Flame is not so bright to itself as to those on whom it shines, so too the wise man

Panic Attack

The man sat in his car; he fought the rising wave of panic. He knew this feeling very well. It had accompanied him through the whole saga. It woke him at night. It gave him hot flushes when everyone else was cold. It ambushed him before he went into a meeting and slowly screwed his stomach as he received bad news. It made him procrastinate, but often, it was the only feeling he had. It was the only thing that reminded him that he was a human with real feelings.

When it passed, he felt weak but he knew he had to do something. He had no money and he needed food, a place to stay and cash for expenses.

Down and Out in a BMW

His only asset was the car. It was a BMW 3 series, 2 years old and covered in dirt from the trip but otherwise in good condition. He remembered he saw a car yard and tractor sales office at the bottom of the street. He would sell the car and buy a cheaper one. The difference would keep him going for months, maybe a year, if he was not extravagant.

He pulled into the yard and the salesman looked up from reading his newspaper in his warm office. He looked surprised; it had been a while since anyone had come into the yard mid-week. He rose half annoyed he had to move at all and half excited in anticipation of making a sale. When he stood in front of the man he clapped his hands in front of his stomach and smiled that car salesman’s smile that says “have I got a deal for you” just before they sell you a wreck.


The man tries to smile back. “Hi, I want to sell you my car and buy a cheaper one and take the difference in cash. Can you do that?”  He asked, half hoping, half matter of fact.

“Well, sir, it’s a nice car. I’m rather partial to BMW’s myself too. But I don’t think we could sell that kind of car round here. Not these days. That would be a bit luxurious and” he paused, not sure if what he was about to say would offend the man “it would be a bit useless around the farm don’t you think?”

“Oh”, the man said. “Do you know where I could sell it?”

“Well, you would need to go to a bigger town,” the salesman said.

“How far is that?” the man asked “200 kilometres give or take” the salesman replied, losing interest in the conversation. “I don’t have enough petrol to get that far,” the man said to no one in particular.

The salesman looked at him suspiciously. He looked like a businessman albeit, he was unshaven and his hair was matted but the car was worth a bit, how could he not afford petrol?

The man said “Look, I don’t need to get top dollar for this, just make me a fair offer. I’ll swap it for a small car with a full tank and some cash how about that?”

How Time Stops When You Are Broke

The salesman felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. Something didn’t feel right and he was sure this man was either a con man or a thief or worse. He told him he would have to discuss it with his boss and asked the man to come back in a couple of hours. Maybe he could leave the car here so his boss could inspect it. The man agreed and walked back into town.

The last few days had flown past in a blur that felt like an instant. Now with nowhere to go and no money if he did, two hours seemed like a very long time. It was going to be a long wait.

Exactly two hours later, he headed back to the car yard. His car was still where he left it. He had expected to see it up on the hoist being checked out by a mechanic or maybe driven around town to get a feel for its power.

He stood at the car and could see the salesman talking to someone in his office. When the salesman saw the man he motioned to the other person who stood up and looked through the window at the man. It was the town cop.

He came outside and approached the man with that don’t do anything silly look on his face. When he got to the man he said “I hear you want to sell your car. Can you show me your driver’s license please?” The man took out his wallet under the watchful gaze of the cop who made a mental note that there was no money in the wallet. He looked at the man checking for any sign of nervousness.

The man gave the cop his driver’s license upon which he invited the stranger to accompany him to the police station. “Why?” asked the man.

“Well we just have to conduct a few inquiries” the cop said.

“What if I don’t want to” the man said.

“Well you do have a couple of outstanding parking tickets” replied the cop “would you like to pay them now” he said. “No” said the man, defeated.

“Ah, well I may have to detain you for a while then” said the policeman.

He took the man by the arm, it wasn’t a threatening hold but he held it firmly above the elbow and led him to his police car. “Okay if I leave the BMW here Alan” he called to the salesman who nodded obsequiously fast too many times.


The man was shown into the cell where he had to wait for another agonisingly slow few hours. All he could think of was that he was hungry and that he had never been in a cell before.

He was cold but the hot flushes kept him warm and filled his stomach with fear but at least it kept the hunger pains away.

When the policeman came back he collected the man from the cell and took him to his office.

“I don’t understand” he said. “I checked and you are the boss of a big company. You own the car outright. You paid for that Abo woman’s drugs at the chemist and your card was declined at the supermarket? There’s no warrant out for your arrest but you have accumulated a few parking tickets in the last few months”, he said reading from his notes. He looked up, “which you have not paid. What’s going on?”

The man just looked straight ahead. The policeman could see the red blush rise in his face, the man looked done in but he was not talking.

“Hungry?” asked the policeman. The man nodded, his eyes still fixed on some spot, a place far off that only he could see. The cop got up and left the room. The man felt the tightness across his chest ease when the policeman left.

The policeman returned about 25 minutes later with a meal and a cup of luke warm tea. He set it down on the table and sat back in his chair. The man looked at it then looked at the policeman who nodded indicating it was for him.

He ate in silence. He tried to eat slowly savouring each bite but old habits die hard and he scoffed it down. He was always in a hurry and food was fuel. It was something you had to take on board that interrupted your schedule so you ate as quickly as possible and got on with the important things in life.

But he was not in a hurry any more. He just hadn’t got used to that yet.

Maybe he was in a hurry to be gone from here. He was embarrassed. He had been arrested in public and the people and the shopkeepers had seen him being led to the car and driven through town to the police station.

He looked at the cop. His face was bright red under the stubble; his eyes were blue, bright and worried. He took a deep breath and assembled his thoughts. “ I’m okay.” he said as much to himself as to the cop “I have not robbed any one, well at least not in the eyes of the law. I’ve committed no offense, at least, that I can pay for by going to jail.” He stared into that distant place, saw the chaos and it disturbed him.

“I need to go now” he said to the cop.

It was not an order, there was no anger in it but it was not pleading either. It was a simple statement of fact. The policeman thought about it for a few minutes and then rose. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and said “Can I lend you a few bucks to keep the wolves away?”  The man smiled, a few hours ago this same copper would have been happy to lock him up and throw away the key. He was the quintessential Australian bush copper tough as nails but fair and now he wanted to show that there was no hard feelings.

“Thanks”, he shook his head, “I’m okay”.

The cop put his wallet away quickly, embarrassed. This man could probably buy and sell him many times over so how much could he lend him that would be of value, $10, $20 maybe at a pinch $50 but that would hurt and Karen, his wife, would be angry. She could do a lot with $50. He asked the man if he wanted a lift back to his car. The man politely refused, he preferred to walk. He needed to clear his head.

It was only a short walk back to town; little did he know how much it would affect his life.

In a field of barley the tree stands out but it is lonely. In a forest it is anonymous but it is content.

To Be Continued……..