Three friends from high school marching band squeezed into my green Ford Pinto. We drove to State College to see the movie “A Chorus Line”. The song “Tits and Ass” rang through my head as we drove over Nittany Mountain in the dark. I prayed that my car would not break down.
Dana Scott, a non-Baptist Christian who claimed to have spoken in tongues on several occasions, sat in the front seat next to me. To avoid the embarassment of the noise my clunker was making, I asked Dana to explain the process of “falling into the spirit and speaking in foreign tongues,” to the gang.
“They say you cannot speak in tongues around non-believers,” she explained as I shifted into fourth gear and the car began to shimmy. “It would be impossible for me to do it here in this car, and besides, I don’t like doing it. It scares me.” Dana explained.
“There is always a translator, sent by the Spirt, to translate what is spoken in tongues, otherwise, what is spoken is not authentic,” my friend Mark explained from the back seat.
“I am glad to be a Baptist,” I confessed, “we believe that once one is saved they are always saved and we don’t have to do silly magic tricks to win others over to the Lord.”
Dana refused to speak to me for the remainder of the ride. The tension in the car was stronger than the brakes on the Pinto.
A rabbit ran from under a bush and we hit it. I shrugged my shoulders and was glad that it was not a deer. Dana did not mumble a word in English or in Latin.
Two miles further down the road, another rabbit ran from the woods. We hit it as well. I laughed and screamed, “Got it!”
Dana nearly spoke in tongues.
When a third rabbit ran from a hillside along the narrow, dark road, I screamed, “Watch this!” Suddenly the rabbit decided to cross the road and the Pinto squashed it.
“Please stop doing that! You are so evil,” Dana cried.
“I usually don’t do that trick in front on non-believers,” I responded.