It happened slowly, and yet, quickly. I had been driving along the same route to the airport that I had driven every Monday morning for the last three years—part of the happy responsibility of traveling for a living. My CFO title had given me the luxury of living anywhere I wanted within reasonable distance of an international airport with daily non-stops to Paris, London, and Berlin, and as such I had picked Atlanta. Decent weather, good nightlife for a single, well-to-do man, and for a lifelong car guy like me, the culture there was phenomenal. Sometimes, I would just sit on the balcony of my condo in Buckhead and watch the spontaneous high line car show that happened every weekend on the streets of the trendy neighborhood. And, when I was inclined so to do, I would call down to the valet staff and have them bring around the trump card—my Lexus LFA.

Pristine in its pure whiteness, the callipygous young women of Atlanta had learned to recognize it. My favorite had been a lovely young woman from Estonia who worked as a bartender at La Tagliatella in Midtown, but seemed to be present at Whiskey Blue at the W much more frequently. Yes, the daily traffic chore made me question my choice on occasion, but what would have been better? New York? Philadelphia? Chicago? Hardly. Try owning an exotic car in Manhattan.

I had loved cars since I was a child. It was as though I had little choice in the matter. While my remarkably few friends chose to worship athletes or women, my bedroom walls were plastered with posters of Testarossas, Countachs, and 911s. I never had much luck with relationships as a kid—mostly because I was too busy obsessing over the car magazines in the school library, memorizing the zero to sixty times and curb weights of exotic cars like other kids my age knew batting averages and rushing yards. When it came time to choose a career, I focused on one thing only. I wanted to make as much money as possible so I could buy any car I wanted. If only the awkward teenaged me could have met thirtysomething bachelor me.

Of course, I never took the LFA to the airport. That duty fell to a nifty little bright blue E46 M3 that I had picked up specifically for the purpose. It had been owned by a young guy (not that I considered myself old—I was 36 when the incident happened) who had made some…less than tasteful modifications to it. At first, I had considered returning it to stock, but I secretly liked the gold BBS spokes, the lowering springs, the much darker than legal tint. When I finally had the courage to drive on a track for the first time a few years prior, I took the E46 to a track day at Road Atlanta. Then I did it again, and again, and again. I met some of the guys from the ATL chapter of the SCCA, and began autocrossing the little Bimmer in STU class. As a result, I ended up modifying it even further, and it was no longer such a comfortable airport cruiser. Oh well, it still worked. Even better, I had a new passion in life. I took the M3 to events all over the country, towing it with a Tundra that I bought just for that purpose, and the last year, I even earned a fourth place trophy at the SCCA Solo National Championships.

Anyway, back to the incident. I had been driving on 400 South when a typically uninsured and poorly maintained second generation Nissan Altima cut directly in front of me at about 75 MPH, and then immediately slammed on the brakes. I guess I had been on autopilot, thinking about that week’s round of meetings, and I reacted too late. I had no chance to avoid the accident by braking, so I swerved to my right, only to have my right rear quarter panel clipped by a F-150 at full speed. The last thing I remember was the car flipping, over and over, and then a sick crunch as I felt my neck snap, my skull crushed by the collapsing roof. And then nothing.

And then… everything. My eyes opened, and I was no longer myself. I don’t know any other way to explain it. I felt younger, stronger. The little extra weight I had was gone, and my muscles felt springy and agile. My vision was perfect. The ancient scar on my hand from a youth bicycling accident was gone. And I suddenly knew everything. Not in a technical sense, you understand, but in a way that you simply wouldn’t understand, because your mind is finite. Mine had become…infinite.

I had awakened in a lush garden, surrounded by plants and flowers that I had never seen before yet instantly recognized. I became aware that I wasn’t wearing any clothes, yet I felt no shame. I looked toward the sky and I saw a massive, regal looking building at the top of a glowing green hill directly in front of me. I immediately understood that I was meant to walk up the hill and enter the building. So I did.

As I entered, a young man, naked as I, was seated in a golden chair at a five foot long marble table in the middle of a huge entryway. The cathedral ceiling must have been at least fifty feet high, with windows that let in the purest light possible. There were no lights, no appliances, nothing electronic. Just the young man in his seat, the table, and an empty chair. He looked up, saw me, and said, softly, “Welcome. In your recently ended life on Earth, you were known as Nicholas William Perry. I have known since you before you were given that name, and I know you now. In this realm, you have the name Samuel.” Yes. I remembered. A chair, plain in comparison to his, appeared in front of the table. “Sit,” he commanded. I sat.

He smiled. His face was familiar to me, but it was not. His skin was dark in complexion. When I was alive I might have thought he was one of the Israeli Jews I had known when I was in the Army. He couldn’t have been older than…

“Thirty-three.” He looked me directly in the eye with a look that I knew meant he could hear and see all that I thought. “In my kingdom, Samuel, you will find that thirty-three is the apparent age of us all. Even those who never made it to that age, and those that lived on Earth much longer than you.”

A wave of emotion that felt like fear but much, much more intense crashed over me. This man, this young king. I couldn’t bring myself to speak his name. I knew I had not been walking his path for quite some time.

“Yes, Samuel,” he continued in the same soft voice that echoed quietly around the great hall. “You know me by that name. I appear to you in this form because this is your Heaven. I appear in other forms to other men who knew me under another name. I am the Creator.”

I fell out of my chair onto my knees. “Father, forgive me. I have not…”

“Quiet, Samuel. Forgiveness has already been given. I ask nothing else of you. Rise.”

I slowly came to my feet, gracious for forgiveness, yet fearful of what might be yet to come.

“Samuel, this is your eternal heaven. You will find that life here is not like your life on Earth. That world was my creation, yes, but it became the domain of Man. You will notice that you do not require clothing here. There will be women, yes, but you will not find yourself wanting to know them in the way you did on Earth.” He smiled. “All the souls that are here come from the physical realm. We don’t require that you make anymore.”

I laughed. I didn’t really expect that Jesus would have a sense of humor.

“Also, you will notice that we have no electricity. No fuels. No electronics. Only simple tools that can be easily fashioned. There are no possessions here. No money. All that you need will be provided.”

No money. It made sense. After all, what force on Earth had ever caused more pain than money? Or the drive to acquire more possessions? More power?

I laughed again. He returned my laughter, and his laughter overwhelmed my heart with joy.

“You’re thinking that you spent your life on Earth acquiring money. You even had a job title called Chief Financial Officer of which you were immensely proud.” He had no judgement in his voice. His tone was remarkably even.

“Yes, Father. Was that…was that wrong? Should I have done more?” I felt instantly ashamed.

“We have a saying here, Samuel. We don’t ‘Should’ on each other.” He grinned in a distinctly non-divine way. “What I mean is this. Your life on Earth, in the context of your greater existence, is a small speck. You were on Earth for thirty-six years. You will live here for Eternity. Try to keep it in perspective.”

Like I said earlier, your mind doesn’t grasp Eternity. In fact, your mind doesn’t understand any number bigger than seven. Anything more than that is just “a lot.” In that moment, my infinite mind understood Eternity.

And I began to shake.

“Father, you mentioned no electronics. No fuel. That means no cars, right?”

“Yes. Of course. We have no need for them here.”

“But what if I wanted one? Could I have one? Could you make one for me?”

The Creator searched my soul with his face. “Samuel. I made the Earth to be perfect. Like I created Man in my own image, I created Earth in the image of Heaven.”

He stood, and he was much shorter than I had realized. Then I remembered that he had died two thousand years ago. Of course, men were much smaller then. He walked slowly to my side of the table, and sat delicately on the edge.

“Cars are not of God. They are of Man. Created with Man’s tools. On Earth, I gave Man free will, to do good or evil as he saw fit. Here in Heaven, we are of one mind. A holy, pure, infinite, perfect mind. In time, you will come to realize that the things you held so dear on Earth will no longer matter to you here. Here, you don’t need an expensive car or a hobby to be happy.” He looked directly at me, with the kindest and most understanding eyes I had ever seen. “Here, you simply are content. Joyous. Happy.”

I searched my inner soul and found that what he said was true. I was content. I felt peace within my heart. I knew joy. But it wasn’t enough.

“Father,” I began. “If a man and his wife on Earth die, are they united in Heaven?”

“Yes,” he said. “Of course, there are exceptions. An abusive marriage, for example. But if that is what they wish, then yes.”

“Father, I had no spouse. I devoted my life to many, many joyless pursuits. I made money for lots of people. I helped those around me achieve happiness. I never found it myself until I found my passion in life.” I looked up at him, seated on the edge of the table. “My love was not a woman. It was not a family. Regrettably, it was not faith. It was cars. Driving them. Owning them. Being around them. I just can’t picture Eternity without them. And I don’t really want to.” My voice, having started strong, was cracking and shaking at the end.

“Son, I know this of you. Which is why you are in this house.” I looked around the building again. It struck me that the entire time, it had just been the Creator and me.

“This house, this is not quite Heaven. Not just yet. Heaven lies through the door behind me. This is a sort of gateway. Once you pass through, there is no return to the physical world. While you and I are here, you have the choice to return.”

“I do? Will I return as Nicholas?”

“No. Nicholas is dead. If you choose to go back, you go as a newborn child. You will have no memory of this encounter with me. Your soul could end up as a child in Africa just as easily as California.”

“Father, you say you knew me before I was Nicholas.”

“Yes, Samuel. This is not your first time in this house. You came once before. I cannot tell you of that journey, only that you decided that you were not ready to pass through and you returned to Earth again.”

“How many chances do I get, Father?”

“As many as you require. I am infinite. So is your soul.” He folded his hands in his lap and waited.

I sat in silence for quite some time. Time didn’t mean the same thing in that place as it does on Earth.

Finally, I spoke.

“What does it mean if I am not ready now, Father?”

He laughed kindly and quietly. “I cast no judgment upon you, Samuel. Seventeen thousand generations of men have passed through this house. All flawed. None perfect. If you feel you aren’t ready, then I shall simply sit and wait for you to come again. For me, it will not seem very long. For you, it will be another lifetime.”

“Then I’ve made up my mind. I want to go back.”
He stood, and took my hand in his. I was overwhelmed by a sense of warmth and love that brought years to my eyes. I stood, and he place his other hand on my shoulder.

“Then I send you back, and I wish you luck, my son. You will have no memory of this moment. Go in peace.”

I somehow knew that I was supposed to return to the garden, so I turned to walk away, my bare feet making no sound against the cold marble floor. I opened the door, and as I felt the warmth of the sun upon me, I heard his voice once more.

“Samuel?”

I turned to face him. “Yes?”

“I told you that I could not tell you of your first life. Well, luckily, I make the rules here, so I can also break them.” He gave me a boyish grin. “You were a world champion racing driver in your first life. The whole world knew your name, and still does. You had a wife and a family. You died in a plane crash, and when you came here the first time, you asked me for another chance to go back and lead a normal life, away from the glamour and fame. You asked me to take away your love of cars.

“But like I told you, I give all men free will. And when you went back, I watched you as you gravitated toward a love of cars again. But this time, you had no family. No love. Your interactions with women fulfilled a physical need, but never a spiritual one.

“I send you back this time again with free will, but also with a gift. I give you the freedom to be happy. To be happy with yourself. To know that you don’t need possessions or fame to have happiness. What you do with this gift is up to you. It is time.”

He turned and walked toward the opposite door, soon disappearing through them.

So here I stand, now, waiting to go back. I feel my memories washing away, my soul being prepared to re-enter the world. I am afraid, of course, but I have hope. When I come back next time, somehow, I know. I’ll be ready.