Bud had already climbed his way onto the furniture to get the best view out the window by the time I got back in the house. We both watched as the AAA guy cranked my car onto the bed of his tow truck.
It was the third time I got into my car and the battery was dead. The two other times I figured I’d left the lights on or the door slightly open and a friend give me a jump (we can’t use Jon’s car to jump mine because it’s a Hybrid). This time I just called our mechanic who is just a few minutes down the road and told him I needed a new battery.
Clint kindly drove to the house to jump my car, and when it still wouldn’t start, guessed that the problem was the Starter and suggested I call AAA and have it towed to his garage.
The woman at AAA apologized repeatedly that it would take at least 90 minutes for a tow truck to come. I was fortunate not to be stuck on the side of the road. I told her it was no hurry and went back to work. Ten minutes later the tow truck pulled into the driveway. He was passing by the house on his way to his next pickup.
Now my car is back in the driveway with a new Starter. It couldn’t have gone smoother.
I don’t drive it much since the pandemic, mostly just into town and back. But I like knowing that my car is there when I need it. Being able to drive and having a car has always been a source of independence and freedom for me.
Partly because I never lived anywhere that had good public transportation. But also because my mother didn’t drive and my father liked it that way. He felt that if she drove she wouldn’t be as dependent on him.
Sometimes when I pull out of the driveway, I remember that feeling I had of finally being on my own, when I first started driving. The feeling that I could go anywhere I wanted. It wasn’t really true, my 20-year-old car that I paid $100 for often wouldn’t start and would have broken down before I got too far. But it was still more freedom than I’d ever had before.
And of course, unlike my mother, when I was driving, I was in control.