Oh Lord, Won't You Buy Me a Mercedes-Benz?

Come to think of it, I'll take any car that runs and is relatively free of problems.

Bruce and I have two cars.  They are both hand-me-downs: one was from his parents and one was from his aunt.  They were both manufactured before we could vote; that gives you an idea of how old they are.

Neither car is in good shape.  They both came with issues.   We've been patiently repairing them as they occur - we have to get around, and unfortunately it is easier for us to pay for repairs on a credit card than it is for us to take out a loan for a new(-ish) car.  But the excrement (to put it nicely) really hit the fan for me when I went out to lunch with a colleague.

I took Emmie with to meet my colleague/friend at a popular cafe in town.  We had a lovely lunch and it felt really good to talk about work-related topics.  Afterwards she and I said our goodbyes and walked to our cars.  My car was parked right in front of the restaurant.  The patrons had a clear view of me through the large glass window front.

I placed Emmie's car seat in its base in the back, then walked around to the driver's side door.  I put the key in, unlocked it, and pulled the handle.  Nothing.  There was no give.  I tried again.  Nothing.  I peered inside; the handle was jutting out at an awkward angle.  Sure enough, the inside handle was broken.  I couldn't open the door.

Up until very recently the heat wave in the Midwest had been, according to NOAA, "unrelenting".  It was 100 degrees outside.  How was I to get in the car?  Sweat droplets falling off my forehead, I climbed in the car through the front passenger door.  Very couth.  I felt like the whole town was watching.  I was mortified.

I fumed on the way home.  I can't climb in and out of the car every time I need to go anywhere.  If there was an emergency, I wouldn't be able to get to Emmie in the backseat quickly.  This was yet another problem we'd have to dump money on.  When I got home, I climbed back out of the car, retrieved Emmie, came into my in-laws' air-conditioned house and announced, "I'm so sick of being poor!"  And then promptly burst into tears.

My father-in-law said he'd take a look at the car in the morning when it was cooler outside.  I didn't feel very hopeful.

Later that night, I drove Bruce's car.  During the short trip, I figured out that the air-conditioning doesn't work.  It just blows hot air.  Bruce had been driving this way all through the heatwave and didn't say a thing!  Then, when I went to brake at a stoplight, the brake pedal groaned loudly and PUSHED BACK UP AT MY FOOT.  What the heck was that?!  It scared me.  It happened two more times while I was driving it.

I got home safely.  The next morning I woke up super depressed.  I hate being poor.  I feel like Scarlett O'Hara in Gone with the Wind, shaking a rotten potato on top of a barren hill, declaring, "I'll never go hungry again!"  I remember, in the glorious 1990's, driving my first new car and feeling fine.  Someday, I will feel that way again.  But in that moment, the automobile situation seemed pretty sucky.

I was feeding Emmie in my bedroom and pouting to myself when Bruce popped in.  "We fixed it!" He proudly proclaimed.  Bruce found a video on YouTube on how to replace one door handle with another.  His father did the grunt work.  It works like nothing was ever wrong.  Best of all, the repair was free.

Bruce's dad really came through for us.  I couldn't say 'thank you' enough.

I was able to meet my girlfriends on time for wedding dress shopping that day.  Once there, Veronica told me that she doesn't have air-conditioning in her car, either.  I admitted that, though I am sorry for her, hearing that made me feel a little better about our car-tastrophes.  It's not just me and Bruce; lots of people are driving cars from the early 2000's.  My mother's car broke down the other day.  Many of us are driving around in old cars, getting them fixed, doing our best to maintain them until things get better.

Until they do, we're all just going to have to help each other out.  Our cars might be busted, but our relationships could get a tune-up out of it.