I climbed into the back of my car as instructed, while the two masked strangers climbed into the front. The driver turned to me and held out their hand demanding the key from me. What do I do? As I reached out to give them the key a million thoughts raced through my head. Was I about to seal my own fate here? Would history look back and say I should have scrambled out of the car and ran as fast as I could at this moment? If this were a film would everyone watching be screaming “Don’t give them the key you fool!” Or “As if someone would be so stupid in real life.” But I am stupid and I am a fool and as the key slipped from my hand into theirs my act of submission was complete. My life was no longer in my own hands. The masked strangers could now do with it as they liked.
The driver started the car and I looked for what could be a final time at my lovely little Mustachian home. Would I ever see it again? As far as I know there is no Superman, Batman or Spidey around here. Ideally I guess, I would love to be saved by Wonder Woman, but that too would have a downside. I would probably faint into her arms, as she eye rolls at my sheer incompetence, and mutters under her breath, “Not another one.”
Anyway, there was no one to save me. As the realisation of this dawned on me, thoughts of super heroes faded from my mind. I saw familiar streets flash by that somehow looked different from the back seat than they did from the front. Perhaps it was memories clouding the view combined with the increasing stark reality that this was my final trip.
My thoughts turned to my family and indeed my MMM journal followers. There will be no weekly update this week. Will my journal followers even care? Will they be annoyed with me that I haven’t posted on time, express their frustration with me, and then all give up posting? My journal would slowly fall down the pages and end up in total despair on page 87 before the slow march to a page count in treble figures. I couldn’t bear the thought.
I must escape! I was very much conscious that I had been through the phases of fear, acceptance and now hope in a remarkably short time frame. This couldn’t be good for my mental state. Was I really going to make the best decisions right now? As the thought of being saved by a whole chicken (with legs and everything) flashed through my mind I realised, that yes, I wasn’t quite in the right frame of mind to make good decisions right now. I was losing it.
The masked strangers started talking to each other but I couldn’t really hear their whispers from the back seat, what with the masks and the road noise. Would they interrogate me when we reached their destination? What could I know that they possibly would want to know? I realised that I did hold the secrets of how to become financially independent. Perhaps that’s what they wanted to know? That thought scared me. Becoming FI is no get rich quick scheme. How angry would it make them if I told them to spend less than they earn, invest the difference in a low cost globally diversified index tracking fund and then wait about a quarter of a century? My goodness! That may push them over the edge. I now realised I was in a very dangerous situation indeed. I didn’t have any leverage at all with which to bargain for my life.
We reached their destination. Gulp. I regret to announce that interrogation was their objective. They asked me one question followed by another and then swiftly followed up with third and fourth questions. Would I give the right answers? Would they let me go if I did so? Was I about to meet my maker?
They concluded that they would like to buy my car from me. We all got out of the car that was now back at my house again. With the test drive complete, I took them through the paper work in a socially distanced manner in my garden. I looked at the bundle of cash I now had instead of a depreciating asset, and let out a “phew” at the adventure I had just been through.
Honestly, if you had told me eighteen months ago that in April of 2021 I would be in the back of my car while two masked strangers were driving it, the only conclusion I could possibly have reached was that I was being kidnapped! A sign of these very strange times if ever there was one!
I’ve sold a more expensive to run car and replaced it with a cheaper to run car. So my Mustachian People Problem this week was an overactive imagination while selling my car.