Drive

I may have a car to drive tomorrow.

My boss acquired a new vehicle to replace the regular company car, so he said if I’d like, he will keep the old Jeep on the books and I can drive it. You’d think I’d be thrilled, and I am. Sort of. I’m looking forward to saving money on Uber and Lyft and Taxis, but I am taking a much more dispassionate approach this time. Strangely, I’m not really looking forward to this as perhaps I should.

I have not owned a car that I, myself, purchased or chose since 2011. Since I was 18, I have always had a car. Always. No matter how bad things got, it was me, my job, my house, my dog, and my car. Until 2011 that is. Just prior to that, my whole life imploded due to my drug use and general idiocy. Lost the house and car and quit the job. Got another job earning minimum wage instead of $75K a year. It hasn’t been fun. I’ve been on my own two feet for the most part. That’s just the way it is.

Not having been without a car before (let alone money) it was a difficult transition. I didn’t exactly do it with grace. I complained a lot. Walking everywhere is fine when the weather’s nice, but when it’s raining, or snowing, or it’s hot or cold, trust me — it loses its luster. I’ve walked in the rain only to discover my shoes are leaking and I have no money to get a new pair or repair them. So I’ve walked and worked with wet feet. I’ve gotten to work drenched to the skin from an unexpected downpour of rain and had to work while dripping wet. Yeah… stuff they don’t tell you on the brochure when you become poor.

I have walked in snow and frozen my ass off, and slipped and fallen on the ice — but still rushed to meet the bus because if I didn’t get to work, I’d lose a day’s pay or get fired. I have walked in 100-degree summer heat with my clothes dripping in sweat thinking I was gonna pass out.

I did, however, get used to it. After 9 years of this, I still don’t like it, but I’m accustomed to it. My lifestyle has adjusted. I dress for the weather and wear comfortable shoes.

Which isn’t to say I haven’t had a car to drive at all during this time.

The last car I owned and bought myself was repo’d after my life went kerplooey in 2011. After that, my uncle sold me an old car he had literally just lying around for a dollar. It was a crappy POS 1980 Lincoln that was once a luxury automobile. My uncle had bought it to use for spare parts for his other vintage cars, but gifted it to me so I’d have something to get around town. To begin with, it had been stored in a back field and had an entire ant village living under the carpet. Once they were evicted and the car was thoroughly cleaned, it became clear that the car was barely drive-able. The automatic windows didn’t work so driving in the summer was like driving a moving oven. The A/C didn’t work. The heater didn’t work. If it was driven over 55 mph, it overheated. Within 6 months, I gave it back to my uncle with my thanks. I don’t know what ever happened to it after that. I think he scrapped it.

Many times, my friend Mrs H (the original owner of the business I work for now) allowed me to use one of her cars on Sundays to run errands — and sometimes when I had a doctor’s appointment or other important event to get to, I was also allowed to use it.

It was a damn cute little car. A 1994 Geo in electric blue. The cutest damn little doodle-bug car with absolutely NO bells nor whistles. It had a radio and heater and an automatic transmission. That was it. But it got me where I needed to go, and I was VERY grateful.

Otherwise, I just took the bus wherever I went.

Then, a few years ago, a friend of mine allowed me to use one of his cars that he was planning to sell (the original plan was to gift it to me, but he couldn’t find the title). A twenty-year-old Toyotal Rav4 that was in amazing shape. I loved that car. It was fun to drive, functioned great, had 4-wheel drive for easy winter driving. Honestly, of all the cars I’ve had in my life, it ranks right up there as an instant fave. But — it was 20 years old, so when, after a year of me driving it, the brakes went and I didn’t have any money to fix them, my friend got pretty mad at me. I told him I’d have to make payments to him to get it fixed.

Ultimately, and to make a long story short, my friend took it to some fly-by-night friend of his who repaired the brakes for cheap but somehow (who knows how) broke the transmission in the process. I think the guy was shaking us down for more money because he wanted another grand to repair it — which I flat-out refused to pay. My friend and I almost broke up over this; he said some pretty ugly things to me. It was a horrible experience. I ended up paying for the brakes (about $700) but not the transmission. Last I heard, the transmission was never fixed, the car was sold, but the friendship remained shaken but intact.

Not long after that (maybe a year), my nephew gifted me his 2001 Ford Taurus. He signed it over to me and it was mine. At one time, this was obviously a nice car. Power everything and all the bells and whistles and electric gadgets that would have made it one helluva posh family car. Except it was 20 years old and had a million miles on it. It was dying. It cost me $500 just to get it suitable for the road — $500 I really couldn’t afford on my part-time minimum wage job, but managed to save up over several weeks. Sadly, it continued falling apart piece by piece after that. Six months later, it was towed to the junk yard, having cost me far more than it was worth over the course of those six months.

That fall, a friend of mine, hearing I was in Nursing School, offered to lend me her spare car to take to classes twice a week. I drove the thing exactly twice before accidentally scraping the side of the car against a parking lot pole. I called her crying my eyes out and begging forgiveness, knowing there was no way I could afford to pay for the damage. She forgave me, and was really nice about it, but now we barely speak. Mostly because I’m too ashamed to face her.

Since then, I have avoided driving any cars at all, even when people are kind enough to offer. Too much responsibility. Too much pressure. Too many burns.

A year ago, when I started working for my boss (who is the son of Mrs H) he offered to let me have that old blue doodle-bug car which had been sitting in storage since his Mom’s death. Unfortunately, since it had been sitting for at least a year without being driven and supposedly was leaking fluid, I knew what I was in for, so I gracefully turned him down. He was astonished that I would do that — I explained my history with old cars and said (with some authority now) if it’s been sitting, it’s been rotting, and while I appreciated this generous offer, I had to say no. I simply couldn’t risk having yet another car that would would be falling apart and bleeding me dry. He ended up scrapping the car.

There was another car he acquired last year, and offered it to me, but hearing (again) that the car was from the early-2000s and had been sitting for months, I declined. Gracefully and gratefully, but I did what I had to. He couldn’t understand why I would do that.

So in offering me this more recent-model Jeep, he feels he’s doing me a solid — and he is. He really is. That’s why I have tentatively accepted his gracious offer and will drive it occasionally with deep respect. I’ve had to arrange to have a place to park it (my apartment doesn’t have parking and my old parking spot is now taken). I’ve also had to figure out a maintenance and upkeep schedule. And plan on not driving it in the really bad weather because I honestly couldn’t handle it psychologically if I got in another accident with someone else’s car.

But in my mind, this is only temporary and I need to treat that car with all the respect it deserves both as a gift and as something that isn’t mine. It is so easy for me to begin to feel entitled to the car. It isn’t my right, and I need to remember that. Driving is — as the last almost 10 years have proven — a privilege that can be taken away at any time.

I never used to think about these things in the “before times” when life was so much easier and I took everything for granted. I had a good job that, as long as I kept showing up (because why wouldn’t you) I kept getting paid. I got regular raises and promotions. I was paid well. I hated it, but I had good money and benefits. I never really understood what it was like to live without that — until it was all gone.

I always had a car. Hell, I had a few GREAT cars! By far my favorite was a mid-90’s sports car. Best. Car. Ever. Always liked my cars fast and bright red. Still, I never truly appreciated them, even though I loved them all. I never really understood that owning one was as much of a privilege as it was. It was just part of life. I had a car payment and paid insurance every month. That’s just the way it was. I always had a new or newish car so I never worried about check engine lights or cracked engine blocks or shitty transmissions. Sometimes I had a car repair such as a muffler of which I would complain about the cost. But then I would drive away and it would be fine. I paid my inspections and registrations on time back then — complained about them too. My license was free and clear. Never had to get my license out of jail by paying off a ticket. I would bitch about the cost of everything, but I had the money to pay for it even if I had to wait a couple weeks to do it.

How far everything has come.

I am definitely not the same person I was 10 years ago. And in this case, I think that’s a good thing. I am entirely grateful to every friend who helped me out during those awful years. I hope to graduate this spring and be able to start giving back for every favor and forgiven sin.