The ‘Check Engine’ light came on as I approached hour two in the drive home from work Thursday.
I am not a person that appreciates dash lights.
My heart starts to race,
palms sweat,
stomach shrivels into itself as the acid starts to flow.
This light is just beside the ‘Almost Out of Gas’ light.
In the millisecond my eye caught the glow I thought I’d imagined getting gas the day before.
I MUST be out of gas, right?
No.
Check Engine.
It’s been two days.
The determination has been made that Something IS Wrong With the Car.
It involves sensors.
And oil.
And the prospect of way too much money to fix it.
(Seriously, I got lightheaded)
And the determination that, maybe, a car with 254 thousand plus miles on it might be sending up a white flag.
Maybe we should stop?
Even if this is a Bad Time to Buy a Car.
Or maybe we (by ‘we’ I mean Ken, with me hovering helpfully nearby like one of the cats),
Maybe we should fix it ourselves?
Videos have been watched.
Parts ordered.
We should know by end of day tomorrow if the auto surgeons need to be involved.
But that’s not what this is about.
You see, on Thursday,
when the Check Engine light came on-
my husband was out of town.
Getting some guy time.
I was happy for him- he needed it so bad.
But I didn’t want to be alone dealing with a Car Thing and a Check Engine light.
My lack of knowledge regarding cars is eclipsed only by my lack of knowledge about Sports.
And I know next to NOTHING about sports.
But something amazing happened on Friday.
Friday; as I waited for the Car Place to tell me what the codes revealed about my car.
I found out I wasn’t really alone.
Not in a big WOO-WOO way.
Not exactly.
But in a really subtle pay-attention-to-what-is-happening way.
- Since I had no car I walked a block to get a falafel sandwich at a gas station restaurant.
(This is not like gas-station-sushi. Pita Pan is awesome)
About 50 steps (I have a fitbit. I LIVE by steps) towards the gas station I pass a man and woman pushing a stroller.
I nod as we pass each other and keep moving.
Then I hear the man call my name.
Turning I see it’s someone I know.
We worked together up to a year ago.
He is walking with his wife and grandson, just happened to be on this sidewalk.
Introductions were made, the grandson is adorable, handshakes and nice to have seen you.
Take care.
Tell everyone Hi.
I move on, my step lighter. - I walk into the gas station and switch my sunglasses for my glasses glasses.
In front of me is a man studying the menu board.
We stand companionably, side by side, the he turns to me with
“Aren’t you…? And says my name.
Incredibly enough, he is also someone that I worked with on a project for work.
Except he lives in Chicago.
And I am 55 miles away from my usual workplace.
Let me buy you lunch, he says.
I insist he says.
Please.
I nod and say the first thing that occurs to me.
Falafel.
Diet Coke.
And why are you in a gas station 240 miles from home?
In what might be the least-known sandwich shop in Ann Arbor?
We laugh, marvel at the timing.
Have a great talk and terrific lunch.
I head back to work, my step even lighter.
Maybe even bouncy. - The Car Place had room on a shuttle for me, which is how I got to work after dropping off the car.
The Shuttle Man called me twice during the day.
Did I need a ride back to the Car Place? (Yes)
The last ride would be 3:45; was that too early?
(Yes, but I will figure out something. Maybe I can take the car back to work?
Maybe I will walk?
It’s about 6 miles, maybe I can find someplace closer where my laptop will connect to The System?
I’ll figure it out)
NO! he said.
I can’t let you walk.
If you need a ride you can call me and I will come take you to your house.
This from a person I met six hours earlier.
He called at 3:15 to double-check on me and give me time to pack up my stuff.
Wished me a good evening.
Best of luck with the car.
Everything will be OK.
Here’s the thing.
If this was a movie, this is the place that I tell you the car is healed.
Hosanna.
Happy ending.
But that’s not what this is.
The too-high-price to heal was shared.
I have no idea what will happen when my husband watches the YouTube videos carefully and replaces the parts.
I have no idea if we need to take it to The Other Car Place for car surgery.
No idea how this will end up.
But I do know that the Check Engine light is a signal to stop and look.
To pay attention.
That Something is Happening.
To dig deeper and listen.
And on Friday that’s what I did.
I found that I am not alone.
That in improbable places and from improbable people: my name was called.
I was seen.
My needs were met:
– friendship
– comfort
– food and drink
– conversation
-care
Ken is home now.
Preliminary inspection of the car has revealed that the engine under the hood doesn’t match the Haynes manual.
The shop has only one of the two parts we will need
(start out needing, most likely. We always seem to need just one more thing)
Naturally this is a Holiday weekend, and everything including the Other Car Place and the original Car Place are closed.
I have no idea what will happen.
But I am holding on to yesterday’s knowledge.
I stopped and paid attention.
I am not alone.
I am blessed.
Pocket Change 