On Monday, I was driving into a neighboring town for an appointment when I noticed that my car was making a weird sound. I thought, “Just please get me to the appointment,” because it was important. Blessedly, I made it.
After the appointment, I returned to the car. As soon as I started it up, I heard the whirring and remembered I had a problem. I began to head toward the town where I live. At a couple of stop lights, the car started jerking. Once again, I said, “Please just get me to the repair shop.” On the way home, I passed a mechanic shop and headed directly there. Luckily, I made it.
I connected with the shop on Tuesday. They discovered the issue: the transmission. Not only did it need fluid, but it was completely shot. FML. They recommended that the vehicle be towed to another neighboring town to a place specializing in transmissions.
I went by the mechanic shop that diagnosed the issue and paid for the tow truck and the transmission fluid they’d used to identify the problem. Then, I went to the town next door to sign paperwork to provide permission to work on the car. The transmission shop said they were running behind. They stated the vehicle wouldn’t be ready for one and a half to three weeks and provided an estimate for the repair. Again, FML.
I had a couple of appointments on Wednesday that I couldn’t miss, so my mom chauffeured me around like she did before I was sixteen. When I shared my current predicament with someone, they inquired why I didn’t just borrow my mom’s car. Well, Reader, that is because my mom drives a manual, a stick shift, and has for most of my life. I, on the other hand, do not. It's an automatic for me! Hellfire.
My options became:
Have my mom cart my butt around for the next one and a half to three weeks (!!).
Learn how to drive a stick.
Ugh.
My concerns about driving a manual vehicle:
What if the car dies in the middle of an intersection?
What if the car dies at a stop light or stop sign, and the people behind me scream and honk?
What if some moron gets too close behind me, and when I put the car into gear, it rolls back and hits their car?
What if I get stuck on a hill?
What if I rip the transmission out of it?
Agh!
So, I had a decision to make:
Lose my independence.
Be brave and face my hypothetical (but very possible) fears.
Oy.
I chose the latter.
On Wednesday, I drove my mom’s car up and down the driveway (about a quarter mile long) and did figure-eights through the field at the bottom of the hill. Mom rode in the passenger seat. It began raining and sleeting, but I continued for a while.
On Thursday, we took the car out on the road. Mom drove into town and parked in a Walmart parking lot. I made laps on the relatively empty side of the lot and practiced parking and reversing a few times. I wondered if store security questioned why I was driving back and forth. I’m sure the times the car stalled or jerked may have given them a clue.
Although there’s room for improvement, I think I’m doing reasonably well. The transition between a complete stop and beginning to move forward in first gear is still challenging, but once I get started, I’m fine. And I must remember to be patient with myself; I’ve only been doing this for a day.
When given a choice, I decided to take a risk and chose the most uncomfortable option. Although this entire situation sucks for many reasons, I’ve chosen to focus on the positive piece. I’ve taken the opportunity to learn something new. I took on the challenge, even though I had several reservations. I haven’t yet gotten to where I want to be, but I’m on my way.
Added to the Fundamental Writes Spotify playlist this week:
“Drive My Car” by The Beatles