I have been on the road since birth. My grandmother, whose other name was Road Warrior, held no qualms about saddling me up in the backseat of her Buick after church on a Sunday, drive up the coast or "Down East" for those who know what I mean, and visit with friends. She'd throw in some cassette tapes of people singing hymns, or a barbershop quartet and off we'd go, in search of old people and maybe a reuben sandwich from Moody's Diner in Waldoboro. She then would turn around after a few hours of visiting, return to church and return me to my mother in the evening. And before I came along, it was my mother holding down the backseat.
Nowadays, I need my car for survival. And sanity. If the car stops, so stops the nation. I started smelling what I thought was antifreeze from my car about a month ago. Instant panic ensued. Trying to find an hour to have someone look at my car is like asking me to carve out an hour of my day to read a novel by candlelight in a bubble bath. I took my chances with my really loud spoken, guitar playing neighbor Wendell's referral of "Jimmy the mobile car mechanic". The benefit is the mobility. That was the only benefit. The problem is that "Jimmy", after finally making it over to take a look, blew me off for.....ever. Awesome. My next stop was my neighbors brother who owns a shop on the local Army base in my backyard. He at least let me take his 1991 Toyota Camry to pimp around in while he spent the day only to bring it back telling me that, virtually, I'm crazy and nothing is wrong with my car.
A sigh of relief and re-confirmation that I'm nuts.
I find some sort of calm while driving. Alone. Driving while with children prevents all rational thinking from taking place. The only problem solving going on at that point is answering the 47 questions being hurtled in my direction while simutaneously opening a snack and a bottled water for someone. I drove around the country once, solo. Dozens of folks asked me why I chose to do that 10,000 mile trip alone and my one response, which I never wavered from was, "Could you think of one person in your life that you could be in a car with for three months and not want to kill them by the end of it?" That usually shuts them up for a minute as not many folks have an answer for that one.
I am at that critical point with my SUV that I truly fear a hard rain or a car wash will surely make it fall apart. If there is a clean spot anywhere inside the car, it's an anomoly; especially with two boys and me driving over 300 miles on a normal week inside the beast. I'd vacuum it, but it's about as high on the totem pole as that bath thing...
But what does one do without a car and your livelihood, motherhood, etc., depends on it and you can't trade cars with your mechanic? That is a situation I hope to not be in anytime soon; and for now, no car washes, just to be safe.
Follow my blog. Ok, please follow my blog. It'll encourage me to try to make you smile, even if I can't see you, more often.
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