Right on cue the transmission on my car shit the bed. It’s a twelve year old Honda Accord with 156,599 miles on it (Not quite to the moon…) so, yeah, these things happen. Get a new car, right? Sounds good, except for one little problem. It’s the car the protagonist drives in the film and we’re not done shooting it out yet.

Ironically, I was driving my wife to the mechanic to pick up her car when the tranny on mine started slipping, spontaneously losing power and then catching and LURCHING forward in fits and starts. My mechanic, who’s fantastic and I’ve been using for eighteen years now (Come to think of it, that’s the longest relationship I’ve ever been in!) just sighed when he told me the trans was tits up in that way that says, ”Don’t waste your money. Get a new car.”

I can’t.

I still need actors to drive this thing for pick ups. I can’t put them behind the wheel and say, ‘Hey, just pretend it's bucking bronco in traffic…. and ACTION!’ Maybe if I wore jodhpurs and screamed it into a megaphone but we didn’t budget for that and I look stupid in tight pants anyway.

So we bite the bullet.

What a depressing cul de sac we find ourselves in. Months of
not cleaning the thing so it would look just as crusty as the character that drives it. We end up plowing two grand into a car that isn’t worth the money, especially after I got wrunched in the passenger fender on the I-5 two years ago by an elderly dude who tried to drive away and when I chased him down and he finally pulled over, got out of his car and started screaming, ”Why did you hit my car?!?!?” So, yeah, the Blue Book on the car is less $$$ and more “All The Jalapeño Poppers You Can Eat” during Happy Hour at the local gastropub.

Is this show cursed? Going by the checklist, it sure as hell looks like it:

  1. Nightmares
  2. Loss of Energy
  3. Financial Loss
  4. Relationship Difficulties
  5. Health Problems
  6. Dark Omens
  7. Unexplainable Pains
  8. Trouble Sleeping
  9. Legal Problems
  10. Bad Luck

By my count, we’re running, like, ten out of ten. About the only light in the tunnel of this last few months is that we’re finally editing at a brisk pace. The codecs, software, and computers are humming without a hiccup and I’m editing without interruption (Except, you know, Christmas presents. What the hell is a MLP Pinkie Pie?!?!? Throw your dad an weblink there, honey.). And that tunnel light is getting brighter every day. So I’m not worried when Dokter Snake claims that ‘the force of an occult attack comes in three waves.’ Only three? Dude, this show was hit by that big assed, mountain-sized, tidal motherfucker that killed Wes Bentley in “Intersteller.” Pfft. We’re gonna fuckin’ surf on just three waves. We’re not gonna die on that water planet and be left behind. This film is on the verge of a McConaissance! We’re going to… uh… die in that black hole… I guess…


I hate this fuckin’ metaphor.

© Michael Thibault 2015, All Rights Reserved. May Not Be Printed, Published, Posted, Transferred, Or Duplicated Without Permission.