Ford Escort RS Turbo

I’ve come to the conclusion that Astrologers are racists.

Horoscopes are, as far as I can make out, a very unreliable source of putting people into a segregated group. Based upon the original four elements of Fire, Earth, Air and Water seems, in this modern world, a tad basic. I mean there are one hundred and eighteen elements on the periodic table so they really need to shift it on a bit. Then there’s the small undermining issue against horoscopes too that beneath all the astrologers ramblings that you’re going through a period of transition or your luck is about to change, it’s all bollocks.

It’s as big a bag of bullshit as magic. The delightful sleight of hand trickery that makes things disappear, re-appear, float, sink or fly and it all leads back to one thing. You will see what you want to see. You will read what you want it to say. How many times did you read your horoscope to have it not bear relevance and so, instead of looking for what it might mean, you flipped to the cartoons instead? You dismissed it.

When you see some over acting person appear on a stage to make things appear or disappear, how long was it before you became aware of how it was done? It happens because of practice. Long hours of lonely, not-getting-laid practice. Then they peddle it as magic. And that’s why I hate it. Not that some stuff hasn’t been entertaining over the years but because they have their own little sad group called the Magic Circle. To be in it, you need to practice like a maniac and then not tell anyone how you practiced. You rock up, perform a trick and become a member. To me, this is just a cult.

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Astrologists. You are the same. You don’t look into the sky at night to read the celestial signs that have a meaning to those of us who were born between set dates that fit a calendar do you? You generalise your readings based upon personality types that you then peddle and expect that all of us, to a tee, in that month, on that day, will be having the same thing happen. How arrogantly narrow-minded is that? And, if you do look into that night sky to search for inspiration, where do you draw the line of what you can see with your eye versus what we keep finding with Hubble? I can appreciate that this is fairly harmless stuff but recently, I got into quite the argument with someone who vehemently defended their horoscope and how it is almost their life guide. Almost.

It was a throwaway comment that I should’ve ignored, but while chatting, they stated that ‘I’m keeping my wits about me today. I read in my stars that something big is coming that will crystalise my plans.’

Now, it must be said that why I questioned it was that at the time, we were driving down the M40 just past Oxford services, heading south. It’s quite a known accident black spot where many a middle-management type has come out of a poor meeting and into the central reservation and shared their bad day with us all. So, clearly, I needed to clarify if the wits they were keeping about them were on the road right now where I felt they needed to be and not on their mind wandering out of the car and into the grille of an HGV heading in the opposite direction.

“What plans have you been working on then?” I enquired, hoping that the next twenty minutes might be a good chat. “Oh, I don’t want to say” they replied, “I don’t want to jinx it.” Turns out that I thought they might well want to be a sodding magician given that reply.

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I countered, “but, if the plan is known to the cosmos and someone has gone to all the trouble of receiving that message for you and printing that message to you in a national newspaper, then I fail to see why it’s a big secret? From me. The guy in the car next to you.”

“Yes, yes, I know but I just feel that if I tell someone what I’m planning and that my stars have said it’s going to come together then you’ll know soon enough!”

I won’t bore you with the exact conversation that continued until the smell of landfill emanating from the fields opposite Beaconsfield services filled the cabin, but it mainly consisted of my asking how often this small piece of writing could define their day/week/life? How did it compare when you got multiple versions for the same day from different sources that were at odds with each other? Which one was right? Turns out that, with an element of leading on my questioning, I could get them to agree, disagree or contradict everything they said they believed every couple of miles.

Admittedly, this is an easy thing to do with someone who I like and care about but who I also cannot fail to wind up purely for my own entertainment to pass a long journey. However, it was slightly concerning and worrying that you can see how impressionable they have become about something that they read and believed in so wholeheartedly.

And this waffling brings me to the Ford Escort RS Turbo you see here. Now, I remember when these were new. It was a simpler time. Not because it actually was any simpler but because time has passed and there’s an element of rose tint to my view these days.

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Some cars do indeed age well. Some gain mythical status. Some are a sound investment and others are as baffling to me as my horoscope being able to define my life partner. But throughout this rant of my thinking that horoscopes are bunkum and magicians are just lonely, I can at least appreciate that they give comfort to some and therefore, I believe, that everyone is allowed to believe what they wish as long as they are decent to all others.

And that brings me to this car. A symbol from my youth that I never particularly liked or favoured and having re-acquainted myself with it lately, it still failed to convert my thinking. If anything, it reinforced my concern that some cars are reaching values that really don’t represent good money in the long term and may, if we’re not careful, put even the most entry level car out of reach of the enthusiasts we need to keep the movement going. With it’s Halfords style lamps, squat and squared off angles, the exterior reminds me of that late middle-aged divorcee prowling the dance floor at 2am looking to prove to the younger girls she still has it when clearly, its just a little sad.

The thing is, the owner doesn’t totally disagree but is maybe a little less harsh. “You’re right, this car was one from my youth and I always wanted to have one. I guess it reminds me of that rather than giving me a great drive but I still think it’s a cool car.”

I’ll concede that.

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As a vehicle, it’s floored as easily as the old tart in the nightclub, but in a certain light, you get it. The resonance with the owner is more mythical and magical than that as a mode of transport. My belief that this car does nothing for me on any level is irrelevant because it means something to the owner. And to others who probably reading this, will be wanting something big to be coming my way. A bus probably. And that’s a great thing.

It means that there is real magic in the world because one mans’ tat is another mans gold and I do like the fact we’re all different. In this instance, a Virgo and a Capricorn agreed even though we disagreed. It is to be celebrated because otherwise we’d all be dullards.

Or magicians as they are otherwise known.