The Best Time and Place for Things to Go Wrong

On Sunday morning, Sophie and I headed into town for Mass. Earlier, I’d said, “Let’s take our cameras with us. After Mass, we can do some street photography, and we could have coffee in that cafe down the far end of town, the one we’ve never visited before.” So that was the plan. A morning out with my teenager daughter.

We travelled along the back road to town, up hills and down. When we reached the final hill, I noticed our car wasn’t performing as well as usual. I applied some more pressure to the accelerator pedal and kept driving, and soon we were in town. One more corner and we’d be at the church. I swung the steering wheel to the left. The car followed. And then the car died right in the middle of the road. It refused to move a single metre more.

“Phone Dad,” I said to Sophie as I turned on the hazard lights. “I’ll have to direct the traffic around us.” I positioned myself on the road, and soon a car appeared. It stopped. A man wound down his window and asked me if he could help. Would I like him to push the car off the road? There just so happened to be an empty car parking spot only metres away on the opposite side of the road. The man pushed. I steered. Soon the car was out of the way.

Sophie and I sat on the curb waiting for our rescue crew to arrive. About 40 minutes later, Andy appeared armed with his toolbox. For a few minutes, he poked about under the car bonnet and then decided it was a job for the NRMA. While Andy waited for roadside assistance, Sophie and I went in search of takeaway coffee. By the time we returned, the car engine was running, and the service man was just saying goodbye.

I remember another car incident that happened a few years ago. I’d gone to Mass early one morning with 6 children, and then afterwards, when I put the car key into the lock, it broke into two pieces. My heart sank. What was I to do? How would we get home? Everything seemed like a disaster and I’d wished I’d stayed home that morning. Then our priest, seeing my predicament, offered to drive me to the hardware store to get a new key.

“What a terrible start to the day,” I moaned as we were driving along, and the priest said, “Your key could have broken at any time and place. Outside the church was a perfect place for it to have happened because I was there to help you.” The priest was right. Things could have been a lot worse.

So this morning, I didn’t get upset when my car refused to move. I just accepted the situation and hoped that things would work out okay. And they did. The very first person who came along pushed the car into a very conveniently situated empty spot on the side of the road. It was rather miraculous that there was an empty space so close to the church when lots of people were hurrying into Mass. Because it’s Sunday, Andy was home to help me. (He’d gone to the earlier Mass.) And the car didn’t break down on a hill. Instead, we’d made it all the way to a flat and relatively quiet road.

Yes, sometimes things aren’t as bad as we first think, are they?

But this morning, I did think things were bad. Very bad.

“The car should be okay now,” said Andy after reconnecting something that was small but absolutely essential. (I can’t tell you anything more because I know hardly anything about car mechanics.) So this morning, I used the car to take Sophie to work. And all was well until, on my return journey, I turned into the road that leads up to our village.

The car didn’t feel right. Was it losing power? Was it shuddering? What should I do? I had 5 K of windy, hilly road ahead of me. There was no hard shoulder where I could pull over. Instead, there were ditches and rock cuttings bordering the road. Could I make it all the way back home?

My heart started pounding as I imagined the car coming to a stop in the middle of the road. If I broke down on a bend, there was a good chance that I wouldn’t be seen by other vehicles on the road. Until it was too late. I could become a statistic: One more horrendous accident on our treacherous village road.

With about a kilometre to go, I started praying out loud. I only had to get up one more hill and then make a right-hand turn into the road that leads to our street. There was a car ahead of me. It wanted to make a right-hand turn as well. “Keep going! Don’t stop!” I shouted. The car turned. I turned. And then my car died.

I put on the hazard lights and burst into tears. I’d made it onto a quiet street! I got out of the car and looked up the road. The car that had been travelling in front of me had stopped. And then I realised that it was Andy’s car. He was on his way home from the gym.

Andy, once again, took over. He reconnected whatever had come loose. We then drove both cars around the corner to our home. Even though I’d been in a very hairy situation for a few minutes, things had ended well.

Andy says he’s going to replace a connector clip. This should fix my car’s problem. But I don’t know. What if it doesn’t? Will I once again find myself in the best place at the best time if my car does break down? Should I trust that I will?

Would you?

Photo

This is Sophie sitting on the side of the road waiting for Andy to arrive. It was a very pleasant wait. We enjoyed soaking up the autumn sunshine. Just imagine if it had been a cold and rainy day!

Have things ever gone wrong for you at the best time and in the best place?