The gates of hell

So we go to home group. It's not complicated. It's a group that meets at a home. We go weekly. And for some time this set of gates looks at us. Don't you love the signs that shout out loud? KEEP OUT and DANGER come to mind. Boundaries are set. Spaces defined. Limitations spelt out. Building sites are dangerous ominous unpredictable inexplicable despicable places. Remember them as a child? No fences or barriers then - and the curious smell of soil unearthed and cement and stone setting, sitting in piles, and the mystery of unplastered walls and planks you could walk over leading to out-of-bounds locations.
The gates of hell will never prevail. Not this gate - on this date. With a smash and a crash the boundary-setting warning-exuding contraption leaps out and deposits itself on my 8 year old Japanese-born baby. For no rhyme or reason it remodels my innocent chariot in an act of metallic gravitational defiance by which the collection of signs keeping us out became a statement of inclusion and welcome.
Any observant person wandering down the drive could have gleefully gapped it. The gate, having relocated itself in an act of tyrannical ballistic warfare that would have caused Kim whatshisname's gleaming generals to clap and cheer in harmonious and orchestrated delight, opened doors to this terrifying place of creation and dubious design.
Go straight to State, they said. State insurance, For those new to these wobbly islands at the ends of the earth.You've seen the adverts. "Ain't nothing gonna break my stride." What they can't sort is astounding and quite remarkable by all accounts. Perhaps it was the advert that got the gate going. Every possible scenario is portrayed as they boast of the power of their corporate protection. No, as the consultant correctly points out, there were no flying gates in the advert. Most unusual, says she. Gates do not prevail. Not even from hell. I try to explain it was at home group. That doesn't work.
But the Japanese chariot can be restored to its former shape and finish at a panel-replacer of my choice from their pre-selected preferred providers. What excess? is my short question. Surely the gate is to be held responsible? No - they will attempt to retrieve my precious dollars after the fact. It's a no-blame society, is it not? People have their personal gate- attacks. Not a good idea to blame the gate. What if an earthquake quakes? Gates and fences will have their day in good time. This is an aberration. Most unusual.Reflect on that, reverend. And I do. Deeply and widely, as the old song goes.
Upon reflection then, I conclude that I am proud to be chosen to be the one who kept out of the danger zone - who obeyed the signs - who consulted the writing on the wall - who read the notice board. I knew it said danger. I should have known better.
But that gate clearly chose me to be the first. And next month when my leg is finally fixed and I can't race around in my Japanese chariot anyway - when they finally cut this crafty carcinoma from my caving calf muscle, and steal skin to seal the deal, forcing me to walk around with my leg in the air again, all evidence of that gate's grumpy jumpy autumn night in April will be expunged from the record.We'll both be in a body shop. Chop. Chop. Chop...