Presence, Security

Election Lament

November 9, 2024

I’ve found plenty of ways to procrastinate this evening. I’ve been sitting at the computer, thinking about writing. But first? I ate a few bites of chocolate ice cream out of the carton. I drank the last of my can of sparkling water. I got another one out of the refrigerator, because hydration is important. I went to the Kohl’s website and spent some of the money that I’d saved for their annual Black Friday sale, which opened this weekend, even though we are still technically weeks away from that day. Every year, they have jeans that I like and other items of clothing that I prefer not to mention on sale. Every year, I stock up right about now. Online shopping is easier than writing, especially writing after a week like this one.

Another confession: Grocery Outlet had a few Costco-sized bags of Skinny Pop left on the shelf this week. When I stopped at the store late Wednesday after work, I bought another one. Even though I had pledged that I would do my best to avoid those things, being that I find it difficult to limit myself to a serving or two and can stress eat through an entire bag in a remarkably short time. “To heck with that,” I thought. “If there has ever been a week when I can justify plowing my way through a huge bag of Skinny Pop, it’s now.”

Because this week was one for the history books.

You might argue that I’m being overly dramatic, but it feels like Tuesday’s election ushered in Good Friday, but now it’s Saturday, and Sunday will be years away (at least four, but possibly more depending on how our democracy weathers these challenges). I have long loved Tony Campolo’s “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s Comin’!” sermon, one of my favorite things to watch around Easter. You can watch it here:  Tony Campolo “It’s Friday!” Clip. Saturday was a rotten day for Jesus’ disciples, back in the day. They watched Jesus die, and that was terrible, and then they woke up on Saturday and He was still dead, and that was horrific, but then Sunday came! They only had to make it through the weekend and they got to see Him again. They got resurrection. Continue Reading…

Presence, Security

A Long Goodbye

November 2, 2024
This is a photo of a "check engine" light on a 2005 Toyota Corolla.

Yep. It’s my check engine light. Still shining brightly.

I went to Costco this week and had my tires rotated. I have been driving the 2005 Corolla that I inherited from my parents for years. It had about 75,000 miles on it when I got it. I’m up to nearly 260,000 now. I had every intention of driving that car past the 300,000 mile mark. We’d done it in past years with our 2004 Honda CRV and, a decade earlier, in our 1985 Honda Accord. But the check engine light came on a few weeks ago, a death sentence for cars in California. People in other states can drive cars with that light on forever. It doesn’t always mean that something is seriously wrong. But a car with an illuminated check engine light won’t pass a smog test here, and cars that don’t pass smog tests can’t be registered. 

My registration isn’t due until March of next year, so I still have a few months to enjoy this car. It’s old, I know. It’s battered and has dings. I love it though. I love that I can open the little cubby to the left of the steering wheel and find a yellowed newspaper clipping that showed the call letters of all the local radio stations. My Dad was a big baseball fan and would listen to games on the radio whenever he was out and about. I love that my Mom had granola bars in the glove box, because she had diabetes toward the end of her life, and sometimes needed a quick snack. Is it terrible that I kept one of those bars there? I would never eat it. But it keeps her close in some way.

I wonder how much money to invest in maintenance now. The Costco tire rep said that the tires aren’t wearing evenly, that it might be time for an alignment. I know I’ll also need new brakes soon and an oil change.

It’s a long goodbye.

California has a program where they give you money to buy back a car that won’t smog. You just have to make sure that the car runs long enough to make it to the shop where they take cars in. I hate the thought of driving this car to a place where they would dismantle her. But I could use the money to help buy something different, something with less mileage.

Of course, I could always keep the car and pay to fix the issue. The code reader says that the check engine light indicates a transmission problem, one that would best be remedied by installing a new transmission, which would cost three to four thousand dollars. That would be a lot of money to invest in a car that is already so old, even one that I love so much.

So I will drive it. I will drive it as long as I can, and then I will be grateful that the state will help me, at least a little, with the cost of getting a different car. I will empty the glove box. I will save the yellowed newspaper clipping, the owner’s manual, even the granola bar (maybe the granola bar?). They will have a new home in whatever car I am lucky enough to buy next.