One Day ... But Not Today

There will come a day when replacing my car is smarter than repairing it. Thankfully it is not today.

My car simply didn't start when I turned the ignition five days prior to the day it died. When it happened initially, I gave it a few more tries, panicked slightly as I wondered if that was my last "start", but when it started easily the next time (and the next nine start-ups) I began to wonder if I had imagined the one time it didn't start.

Long story short, it wasn't my imagination. My car died last night.

As I sat and waited for the tow truck to arrive, I mentally tallied how much I have saved and how much more I have to go before I can shop for my next car. I berated myself for believing I was in a relatively good financial position after paying down last years bills to zero. I started to believe I had jinxed my luck.

Then the tow truck driver arrived and had a few tricks up his sleeve.

When the car didn't start by boosting the battery and a little more troubleshooting, he said he had one more thing to try before he gave up. He slid under the car, tapped the starter, told me when to start the ignition and the car came back to life.

He suggested I keep the car running until I arrived at my final destination because the starter struggled a little before it started. So my car spent the night at my friendly neighborhood mechanic's parking lot and a new starter has been ordered. I should be up and running by later this afternoon.

A new starter verses a new-to-me car? The starter wins. I can coast for a little while longer.

Of all the times and places for my car to abandon me, I could not be more grateful to be stranded in the grocery pick-up parking stall, fifteen minutes from home. I quickly assessed my situation. My grocery supply had just been replenished, a long weekend (with an extra day added to it) was on the horizon and I had no where to go. I was dreaming of five days of being stranded at home and I was not disappointed.

Granted, shopping for a different car would have added a dimension to the isolation which would not be ideal. But hey, I was still grateful I hadn't been stranded an hour and a half out of the city, in a spot with no cell service (I know this, because I tried to make a phone call), with my aunt on the day my car first died.

Do I feel like I have a battalion of guardian angels watching over me? You bet I do. Of all the times and places for the car to quit, this was one of the best options. I was on my way home so I had fulfilled my obligations for the day (and just one day shy of getting through the week). The car died on a Wednesday which allowed one business day for my garage to get me back on the road again before the long weekend.

As much as I long for isolation, I am grateful for the knowledge I can go anywhere I need to go by having a fully functional car in the garage.

I am feeling incredibly lucky this morning. My only challenge is in attempting to squeeze both a new car starter AND house insurance out of one month's wages. It's worth a try. 

When I first started visiting my aunt on a regular basis, I remember the sensation of feeling my uncle (her husband) and my dad's presence surrounding us. It was strong and I could almost reach out and touch it. Initially, it felt like a warm hug but as time went by, it felt a little more like someone walking along side me as I made my way through the days. Over time, that feeling diminished and I thought of it less and less. Last night, before I left my aunt's, I looked up at a picture of her and my uncle and my heart skipped a beat as I remembered how palpable I felt his presence over the course of time. I silently acknowledged his presence and wistfully thought of the years I have walked this walk with my aunt. I thought of the idea of all my "heavenly angels" for a fraction of a second.

I snapped back into the real world and as I headed home, I had every reason to feel stranded and alone, but I didn't. In reality, it is because I had a cell phone and all the numbers I needed to make my way back home. It was less of a problem and more of a slight inconvenience. But the feeling I had as I glanced up at the picture of my uncle was still within my subconscious thoughts. My state of well being was more than the convenience of cell service.

One day, my car will not start again for me. It is not today. I am grateful for my handy dandy mechanic at the end of the block, the funds to keep it running, cell service to call for assistance as needed and if there is an angel or three watching over me and keeping life only mildly inconvenient instead of major catastrophies, I am eternally grateful.