How Morey My Cargoyle Saved My Life

A number of years back, I made a bell named Morey. He looked much like a member of the Irish side of the family. He had those bright smiling Irish eyes of the Matthews clan with a concerned brow, a knowing glimmer and slight cataracts. He really felt like a family member so I always kept him close. Morey was the first bell that I ever hung in my car. I don't know why I never had the idea to hang one of my gargoyle bells from the rear-view mirror before, but it really seemed like a good idea at the time. I had been having lots of strange mechanical problems with my '05 Prius and when I hung his waggy blue-tongued head, face-forward from the rear-view mirror, I felt so much more at ease about driving, even though my car continued to 
break down.

Morey was with me at midnight, when I was on the long stretch of highway 33, a small two-lane highway going out onto a pinnacle torwards Tilghman Island on the Chesapeake Bay. Morey gave me assuring looks with his sparkly Irish eyes every time during my car crisis. I knew I would be okay with Morey by my side. He was the most assuring when my brakes gave out right when I was getting on the excruciatingly long spans of the Bay Bridge. This was undoubtedly the most terrifying experience of my life...next to living through a hurricane, (That is another story, but I had Bonzi for that one.) but Morey was there for me. I put my flashers on and talked with him as we rolled passed large freighter ships above the expansive blue waves. We prayed that no one in front of us would stop...imagining ourselves flying into the blue abyss below. I asked Morey if I should have my windows down so I could swim out easily if we crashed. I resorted to my usual calming strategies, loudly singing and religious hymns I could recall from years of attending Catholic schools. Morey's gleaming eyes seemed teary with compassion, while reassuring me it would be okay, and it was.  



My Prius is now in a metal junk pile because its computer system fried, but I survived innumerable pratfalls because the mechanics simply could not find what was wrong with the vehicle. It took six months for them to find out that one tiny electrical component among hundreds was fried. Meanwhile, I continued to drive that mysterious death trap of a car with Morey at my side. I survived failed break systems in the wee hours, on major highways and on many bridges, including the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, one of the longest bridges in the world, several times. It truly is a miracle that I drove all those miles in that possessed Prius unscathed. I honestly feel I have my cargoyle guardian Morey to thank for that. During less arduous times, Morey would just ring for me out of the blue... reminding me to stay alert and watch for deer or other pratfalls. He saved me from many accidents with his surprise dings and dongs. When the Prius went to scrap, I knew Morey's job was done. I have since sent him to Washington to help a teen cousin of mine who is/was deathly afraid to learn how to drive. I am sure he is helping her to feel safe and bringing her  the security and confidence she needs while driving herself to school and her new job.

Now I have a different cargoyle named Gormy. He keeps me company on my hour commute to teach Annapolis. Gormy is semi-retired because he used to be my classroom bell. Now he actually only has to work a couple of hours a day and being a cargoyle for me is now a piece of cake job. This is ok with me because, although driving is a serious matter,  I know that I will never need the serious protection and reassurance that Morey provided again.  

Stay tuned for other stories about cargoyles, including one about how Gormy helped me avoid an extremely expensive speeding ticket...in a very surprising and clever way!