Take My Car....

Yesterday I had my car towed. It was my own silly fault. A sign that was obscured by the branches of a tree told me that every fourth Thursday the street would be swept, and I thought it was Wednesday (the Memorial Day holiday threw me off stride).

A very cheery gent on the end of the phone told me where I could find it, so I walked a mile or so home, got out the bicycle, and pedaled off to reclaim the fifteen year old Buick in question. I got quite a lot of exercise that day. During the phone call I asked what the fine was, and then I asked the man at the other end if he’d perhaps like to keep the car, as the fine was close to what the old rust bucket was worth. He laughed and said, sure he’d keep it if I wanted, but I’d still have to pay the towing charge.

Which is why I went and got it. The man behind the desk was the same good humored gent who had answered the phone and so I made my payemnt and gave him an extra $5, just for being so nice about it. There were two choices available; I could have been grumpy, or I could have been happy that I’d got so much exercise on a gentle day. He helped me see the upside.

The old car seemed actually pleased to see me, in the way that old cars do when they sit in muddy towing compounds looking like lost puppies. We rumbled home, the bicycle in the truck, more or less, and all the familiar squeaks and rattles telling me that this was indeed the right thing for me to do.

The point? We take our transportation for granted, and sometimes it’s not until it’s removed from us that we can see how lucky we are. In a week when I had been working way too hard and had not taken time to get out and exercise much, the enforced change in routine was a real gift. The universe is good that way. If we choose to listen to it.