When I left Pittsburgh for Detroit back in ‘22, winters had fallen into a semi predictable rhythm. A dusting of snow, followed by a thorough brining/salting, followed by rain to wash that thorough brining/salting away. And of course, a deep freeze afterwards to turn it all to ice, and make driving across Pittsburgh’s hundred plus bridges, and crazy hills a homegrown version of the X Games.
After a few years in Michigan, I returned to Pittsburgh to find winters while I was gone had become snowier, maybe... a little colder. But manageable just the same. Being the night owl that I am, one night I found myself in my driveway at 3am to head to the gym. I had every intention of loving on that elliptical for 120 minutes. Outside I stood, 7 degrees, moderately dressed, with a car that refused to start.
I say moderately dressed because I personally hate changing at the gym, so I try to leave the house with the best version of whatever middle ground of weather appropriate looks like. Tonight it was my three pom pom winter hat, a regular zip up hoodie, and windbreaker swishie pants. It’d do. So anyway.
Entering my car, the cabin lights had lit up as they always did, headlights auto illuminated the back of the driveway as they always did too. But when I pushed the start button, a sharp series of *clacks* rapid fired ahead. Gaining a sudden and acute awareness of the temperature outside, it quickly dawned on me that my battery was likely shot, but why not pop the hood and take a look?
When I opened the hood, the negative terminal was covered in thick white/blue whatever that powdery substance is called. But fortunately... I had the tools I needed to really try and earn a second chance at making it to the gym. I grabbed one of my many flashlights, socket wrenches, and the wire brush I had purchased last month because I accidentally didn’t plan for the wax from one of my larger candles to find its way outside of the dish... down the grate of the radiator cover...the patterned... radiator cover. All the way to the floor.
Outside, I did the whole disconnect the negative terminal, gave it, and every part of the connection a good scrub-scrub. Nothing. More *clacks.* At that point I phoned it in for the night, disconnected the battery entirely and took it inside to warm up, maybe earning another shot in the morning. If not? I’d just walk down the street to the Goodyear and buy a new one for a little more than I’d pay at Costco of course. But hey, call it a convenience tax I guess right?
The thing is? In all of this I was never mad, irritated, or remotely put off. Because this? this was a blessing. Think about it. My car was inoperable, with what could be considered a reasonably inexpensive fix, that falls under routine maintenance. Nothing pointed at the alternator, or the starter.
It happened at home, in between my days off of work. I had the tools, including the wire brush I needed, to make some meaningful progress at fixing this myself. I got paid on Friday, and my bills were already paid, so I had the extra coin to absorb the cost of the fix. I didn’t have to rob Peter to pay Paul as the saying goes.
Other things that didn’t happen? It didn’t happen at 2:30AM in downtown Pittsburgh when I got out of work after a 12 hour shift. Or miles away from the house on a very promising first date. Or when I was broke. Or in any number of WAY worse scenarios that could have made this a literal nightmare.
Now, whether it’s God, or the universe, luck, or whatever *gestures vaguely about* “greater than thou” concept you follow, it makes me think sometimes that times like these are the blessings and subtle interventions that are the answers to the prayers we consciously or unconsciously make. It could also be just a benefit of viewing things through a different perspective. Regardless, it’s good to be grateful just the same. To God, to the universe, to fortune, or your own personal brand of “Whatever.”
It’s wrapping the “it could always be worse” cynicism in the wrapping paper of a zoomed out view. Because it could be. But tonight, it wasn’t. In fact, in the broader scheme of things, it wasn’t a bad thing at all. My 4 year old Optima yellow top died in the most gracious way possible, and for that, I am grateful.
We’ll see what happens in the morning.
In the meantime?
I think I’ll brew a pot of tea and maybe crank out some push ups.
-KC
This is so true and so well written. ❤️
This is just beautiful in every way! I love your attitude! This is what I aim for. You're an inspiration 💚