Faith is driving in the dark. Probably used this image before but think about a road trip at night. You can only see 20 feet or so ahead. That’s the window of trust. Traveling so fast, the car simply keeps moving. Headlights provide enough security to keep the trip going. Unless a bulb burns out as mine did on a 1998 Volvo V70 XC AWD. In my old life that project might have taken me a month to chase down. In sobriety I could enjoy success in 24 hours. Because I know that faith depends on the small details. I can’t trust myself to safely travel forward unless I responsibly act now, act today, and follow through.
So, first thing on Saturday morning I went to Kragen’s and bought two light bulbs for $42. A Volvo burns headlights even during the daytime and I expect the other one will expire soon enough. Leave it to those stoic Swedes to protect us even in the daytime. After I bought the bulb, I drove a few blocks to Royal Motors Sales in San Francisco, wincing as I looked around at the pricey cars on racks for oil changes. The garage is more immaculate than my living room and I’m pretty tidy. No dust or dirt in sight, actually. It’s so true that in America people look you up and down after spying your car. Saturdays are my dress down days, so the clerk searching for the special transmission oil that I needed appeared to assume I must have money somewhere based on the car I was driving. Enough to invite a full-fledge car mechanic to stop on by the hood of the car. He opened it and jeered at the battery cables covered in leaking gunk.
Then he spent five minutes narrating potential dire situations. Problem is I love language, so when car mechanics talk to me I simply memorize every word and repeat those money-earning vocabulary words. This always brings a stare of disbelief. Each one takes a step back and stares at me as if I’m undercover and here to bust them. Nothing could be further from the truth. I simply ask questions. A lot of them. He quietly asked for the headlight bulb; I gave it to him and he replaced it in 20 seconds. I thanked him profusely for all his insight–really I did and honestly so. Then I turned around to leave. The knowledge cost me $0. And that’s most often the case after paying attention closely, asking questions, and listening carefully. Never fails.
I delicately backed out of the garage and drove to a different shop where I know the owner, Raul, from previous visits. He focused on a completely different potential problem. These mechanic guys always teach me so much. I asked him if I could return the next day and leave the car with him. I did but he hadn’t ordered the parts. Huh? Anyway, I leave the car with him and walk to work. Even by 5 p.m. all he finishes is installing a brand new battery. Mind you, the car runs just fine–I’m simply proactively taking care of what will probably need focusing on. And with these guys that’s so hard to tell. Each one has a different story and a radically different price for that creative story. But I keep the faith. Because I know my patience will pay off.
Mind you I’ve usually lived this way; my AAA membership is probably a decade old. They’ve been my road insurance for a long, long time. It is just that faith in life takes additional leaps when trying to recognize who speaks truthfully and who doesn’t. For example, I went to Wheel Works today so they could put on brand new tires. Again, I stepped up to the hood of the car and this third set of mechanics went through an entirely different laundry list of items to consider repairing. No joke. Inside the office, a clerk spent 15 minutes typing up the list. He was asking $450 to replace the transmission oil. Is that possible? On a Volvo anything goes when it comes to repair costs, but still. I questioned him. He looked flabbergasted and then back pedaled, finishing by saying the job is not as easy as a regular oil change.
It’s all good. Another clerk advised me to go next door to Kragen’s and buy the $4.95 battery that I needed to open the car. Several mechanics were trying to use a coat hanger because the battery in the electronic door opener went dead. Only one battery was left hanging on a dusty rack in Kragen’s. Lucky faithful me. We all shared a good laugh when I simply strolled up to the car and whispered open sesame while pushing down on the new battery. Success!
Life is that trustworthy I guess. Just keep doing the footwork to show up and notice what absolutely needs doing next. After selling my condo, and remembering my traumatic life this time last year, I admit that for several days this past week a few tears fell. Simply healthy moments of letting go and feeling grateful. Truly I cannot see beyond the next few hours in any given day right now, maybe twenty feet ahead of me on the sidewalk. But I trust. My batteries feel recharged by keeping the faith.
Posted by karolinawrites 