7.  Licence plate - hat trick

 

Following my extraordinary excursion to the US in April 03 and describing it on my website, made me wonder what people were thinking of me and my actions. To those around I was living an everyday life of a driving instructor. We attended church and midweek home-fellowship regularly. I gradually picked up the habit of sending emails again to the media and politicians. I had the inkling that many started to believe that I indeed was on a worthwhile mission and debated amongst themselves, if I was a fruitcake or a saint.

 

This is why I felt that I was being set up and tested, if I was genuine in my claims. If I really was being led by a supernatural force in the US (as I wrote in my online account), why could I not perform in the same way back home? One such test (as I perceived it to be later) was a letter from a federal politician, asking for assistance in a political issue. The writer asked in a letter to telephone Senator’s offices to support a law, which would give Australia the right to ban Terrorist organizations, without UN Security Council approval.

 

I emailed the writer my support and promised to phone the politicians listed. The phone numbers listed were all out of order. Was it a genuine mistake or was there another reason? Imagine I would have claimed to have phoned all the numbers given, without having done so? One never knows when and how ones integrity is on display. I happened to have a few spare moments that Friday afternoon and was able to phone the Senator’s offices. Immediately I was given the correct phone numbers I emailed them.

 

There were many other instances, where I felt I was being tested or at least watched. One Wednesday morning I was conducting a regular client’s driving lesson from her workplace on the fringe of the inner city. She asked, if we could finish the lesson in the centre of Adelaide. I queried where she would like to be dropped. She was rather vague giving directions, so I chose Rundle Road at the Eastern End of Adelaide City. At the corner of my eye I spied a car pulling out of a car parking space and directed my client to the vacated spot.

 

She had difficulty parking the car. It was very practical to try parking between real cars, rather than the artificial way, between sticks in a quiet dead-end street. She ended up a long way from the kerb. As I opened the door to show her how far she missed the target, I saw a ten cent- and a five cent coin on the ground. I just picked it up, placed it in the console and continued in my day’s work.

 

Later, however, an outlandish thought entered my mind. Those coins were planted there. The client was told to finish in the city, to test if I could find the coins. Originally this client had been filtered through to me by an unknown source, possibly working somewhere in the Transport Department. Many of her details, her name, address, permit number etc. made me see clearly she did not come through ordinary channels. I never queried clients, I was just thankful for the work.

 

The reason for planting the coins could have been my claim that I picked up 2 copper coins, possibly placed there on purpose, in the car park of a Days Inn Motel in California in April. (See “More in number, chapter 68). Since above incident I have picked up 25 cents (20 & 5) during a bike ride with my son Jon, $ 4.10 (2 two dollar- and a 10 cent coin) in my neighbourhood between number 20/22 Goodall Road, and more recently a ten cent coin. I am not sure if any of these had been planted, but if they were, I don’t mind playing this little game with 100 dollars bills.

 

During the July 03 school holidays my 14-year-old son Jon and I went for regular bike rides around the district. We had a set route every day, which took us about an hour through the suburbs and beside a picturesque creek. One Saturday I followed a sign Garage Sale at No.12 … Ct. I felt the urge to have a look. Jon waited while I browsed. I noticed a large Organ for sale. It reminded me of a story I wrote in chapter 44 of More in Number. I asked, if they sold children’s books. It may be far fetched, but I had a hunch that people may know of my writing, were impressed with what I had to say and staged Garage sales as a kind of moral support. Try to explain that to your family!

 

I know it sounds weird, but at that sale I bought 4 small children’s books. They were part of a series issued in New South Wales in the late 1980’s. Their trademark is “The shoe people” written in red, surrounded by 5 yellow, five- sided stars. Did someone know my preference of colours and numbers? I noticed other merchandise, which I seem to link somewhere to my story. I know it sounds far fetched, but it’s within the realm of possibility.

 

Further garage sales were held in our immediate neighbourhood. One of these I stumbled across, because I had decided to take the dog for a walk in a direction I had not done for a long time. It leads through bush land and I had become a little cautious. I often discovered books or titles of vinyl records, which fitted into my larger picture. One book I bought was titled: “House of sand and fog”. Even the first name of the author Andre fitted into my picture. I was in control of my thinking. Yes, it is a possibility that it’s all part of the journey, a stepping stone toward accomplishing the mission.

 

Various merchandise at these garage sales I interpreted as subtle messages. In the carport of the sale mentioned above I noticed a large number of bags on display. One looked brand new and I bought it for two dollars. For five dollars I could have purchased a cupboard. Not the latest style, but functional. The word cupboard could mean – see you P board (a plane, perhaps?). It would have fitted in with the bags. I even could have bought a complete toilet bowl for ten dollars.

 

Before a lesson one day one client also had a cupboard fairly conspicuously placed right at their front door. (She was a ‘referred’ client – her name I decoded as – Educational words). It was difficult at times to just act normal, when I could sense that people read my writing online and were obviously affected. People at meetings or gatherings would drop hints. Was I to get the message, they were on my “team”? On another occasion, during a seminar, a lady placed 3 coloured chocolate eggs, on the table in front of her. She had picked them from a bowl provided. The colours were red, yellow and blue. Those who were expecting the last colour to be green, see the driving instructor in me. (I wished sometimes this was all there was to it).

 

On another occasion, during a function with the speaker’s club, one young man quoted a small passage from my book, almost word for word. I recognized it and started to wonder how far my story had spread, possibly further than in my wildest imagination. The power of the internet combined with the best and cheapest form of advertising, word of mouth, may have done the trick. What magic!

 

I still didn’t know what people were thinking about me. It must sound strange to people that I had never to this day (Mid Oct. 03) talked at great length with anybody intelligently about my writing. Most seem to keep a reasonable distance. I figured that even close friends were starting to be unsure what to think of my strange writing on the internet. If emails like the one following, had circulated to any degree, I am not surprised that I was slowly building a reputation as a larrikin with a serious mission to accomplish.

 

On the way to church one Sunday morning I picked up a registration number of a car in the lane beside us. Just in case my observation was being tested, I composed a poem and sent it to the politician concerned:      

 

 

The tale of two WEGs

 

One night I sat at the table with Fish,

Enjoying a drink and a casserole dish.

The chatter was Canberra, our kids, political life

Then I mentioned to her number seven twenty five.

- - -

The number belongs to her son’s black coupe.

I noticed it parked, it had me worried all day,

I expected a Holden, WEG eight twenty five

The difference one hundred, but don't tell my wife.

- - - -

You see, driving to church my Hawkeye wouldn’t fail,

It spotted a Holden, the reason for this tale.

WEG eight twenty six, one number more than the other,

My memory I inherited from my darling, dear mother.

- - - -

I am taking the time to compose this poem,

Cause when I spot cars with familiar plates, I know ‘em.

At times I wonder, have doubts, am perplexed,

What will I see and email them next?

 

(The letters WEG and the name Fish are not authentic, as I want to preserve the person’s privacy).  

Car registration plates had been a catalyst for my ‘outside the box’ thinking. Unless it’s just my imagination, but I think specialized plates are on the increase. Some are real clever; some make you think. Opening my bible one day, I came across a scripture in Isaiah. The headline read: Cyrus, God’s instrument. I had never heard of Cyrus in the bible before.

On October 10th 03, because it was Friday and the date such a nice number, I emailed my finding to the ‘group of five’ (an email group of 2 politicians, 2 members of the media and a clergyman).    

 

Hi all,                                                                           (Email Friday 10/10/03)

 

Those who followed my thinking will recall that I linked WEW 228 (the car rego of my Suzuki) to the scriptures of Joel 2,28, which in the German bible is Joel 3, Verse 1, which is similar to the rego of our family Mitsubishi, VHO 301. With an addition of a V to VHO one could read the word WHO.

(I always thought that double V would better describe a double U). 

 

Later I discovered in an emotional moment of my life that in Acts 22.8 the writer recalls how Saul of Tarsus asks the voice he heard speaking to him: "Who are you Lord?" 

 

About a month ago I read the book of Isaiah. I was led to chapter 45. The headline read:  "Cyrus, God's instrument." I read about holding a right hand, about Gates that are open. Verse 3 promises "treasures of darkness and hidden riches of secret places.   

 

But Verse 5 stood out as I pondered: I am the Lord and there is no other...

 

People who think I am crazy will dismiss my thinking. But for what it is worth, I tell you that our third vehicle in the family, my son Tim's first ever car, a Volvo he has driven for over 2 years, carries the rego -  … 455

 

If he knew that I am sending you this email He would not be happy with me. But that is another story. As long as God's will is done in our lives, nothing else matters. Don't they say - When your number comes up - your numbers come up (or similar). Our God reigns. He loves numbers.

 

Kind regards

Dieter Rolf Fischer

 

PS The longest single-syllable word in the English language is "strength".

 

 

There are only four books in the bible that have 45 Chapters. One of these (Ezekiel 45, 5) stipulates the land apportioned for the Levites. Another Old Testament book, Jeremiah 45 has just 5 verses. Verse 5 speaks of the prophet Jeremiah giving Baruch, a writer, a message from God: “Do not seek great things for your self. There will be great adversity for all flesh. But I will give you life, wherever you’re going.”

 

The third possible 45, 5 combination is found in Genesis, the first book of the bible. It tells the end of the story of Joseph, a character I have already mentioned in my previous book (More in number… chapters 9 and 36). In verse 5 of chapter 45 of Genesis, Joseph appeals to his brothers not to be angry with themselves (for having nearly killed him, but sold him instead). He goes on to say: “For God sent me before you (to Egypt) to preserve life.” His brothers found it harder than Joseph to forgive themselves for their evil deed. (If you have never read the story, read Genesis Chapter 37 ff, it’s fascinating).

 

How peculiar that one of the three 45, 5 scriptures mentioned, speaks of giving life, the other of preserving life and in the third one (in Isaiah) God, the giver of life, tells who HE is – the only God. In view of the small range of scripture that would fit 45.5, (and not one chapter 4, V. 55 is found anywhere in the bible) I considered this bit of trivia as worthy of reporting.

 

Why I mentioned the word strength in the PS of above email is not because the word means power. I had been leafing though a magazine while waiting for fish and chips take-way at Brighton, a beachside suburb in Adelaide’s south. In a trivia column it mentioned the longest single-syllable word in the English language is: s… (I have forgotten the actual word and been unsuccessful researching it). However, it was not the word strength, which is supposed to be the longest single-syllable word in our language. Perhaps there are two.

 

I phoned the young magazine (only 1 year old in Oct. 03) and told them of the word strength. I think the young lady appreciated my input and rewarded me with a free copy, which promptly arrived in the mail a day later. The enterprising team was the only printed media to gain an interview with Sir Richard Branson during a short visit to Adelaide. I wondered what his car registration is.  

 

Another seemingly pointless fact came to the fore recently: A car licence plate, which only makes sense to me and to those readers who by now use the word ‘co-incidence’ very sparingly. While working for the MCA organisation around 1990, the vehicle supplied to me, to teach learner drivers had an interesting licence plate. The letters of the registered number are all the kind to turn on my linking brain. But the letters 315 top it off. (By sheer fluke 4 hours prior to uploading this story online, I spotted the actual vehicle in question, for the first time in years, during a driving lesson – it made me decide not to divulge the complete licence plate).   

 

As a joke I used to tell people that some rich people like to show-off how rich they are, by a personalized car registration plate. Yet, those that are mega-rich, those that don’t know, how rich they really are, don’t bother. They just have a standard number plate. I bet Sir Richard Branson just has an ordinary number plate.

 

So do I.  

 

Chapter 8

 

Index