Down to a Backpack

On Monday night, at 10:30, I started my car to make the drive into the mountains.

Or rather, I barely started my car.

The battery light had been on earlier that day, and I had watched with some worry as the voltage fluxed from 10-12. Voltage now read just above 8. Not the way I want to drive into the mountains. So I call Jonah. Matt. Priyanka. Jen. Jen picks up.

I crash at Jen's house. Morning rolls around, I manage to get one more start outta my car, and I limp it down to the Steve's lil' Engine. Walk to my bike, bike to my work. At this point I am estranged from my vehicle, which now stores my basic living supplies. All I have is my backpack, its academic contents, my cell phone charger, and a small travel bag with a few hygiene products.

Or at least, that's what it would seem. I also have my wallet, and while I am not wealthy, I have the ability to wield more money than 60% of the world uses in a year. I have my cell phone, capable of communicating at a moments notice to nearly anyone anywhere. Textually, vocally, and even pictorially.

I also have a great pair of shoes. Good for running. Black so they look kinda classy. Compared to the footwear throughout history, they are a walking miracle. They are nearly as flexible as a silken slipper, and nearly as durable as hardened leather. Great traction on the bottom. They let air flow through the top. They even lace to different tightnesses depending on my mood and given activity.

My jeans are a similar wonder. Not so thick that I'm hot, not so thin that I'm cold. Rugged and protective; soft and comfy. Reinforced seams. This zipper thing is awesome too. It allows them to fit me perfectly, and still come off easily when I want them to. My pockets are both spacious and classy.

When it comes down to it, even though at that moment I had maybe... 1% of all the things I usually have at my disposal, far less than 1% if measuring it by space, I had more luxury than many people today, and certainly most throughout history.


Side note.

You know when you get your car worked on... how resentful you feel when looking at the hours of labor you are paying for? Well, when I was looking over it this time, I added it up in my head, and suddenly realized that the man MUST have under calculated. I had talked to him half a dozen times over the last few days... I bet he worked 3x more than he was billing me.

Perhaps it was the wash of relief of getting my vagrant home back. Perhaps it was because of my intense gratitude for things like my shoes that gave me an intense appreciation for an awesome machine like my car. Or perhaps it was the subtle knowledge that I didn't have to pay any rent or utilities at the end of the month.

Whatever it was, I look him side long as he is explaining the bill and ask, "You sure you are being honest with these hours?"

He's flustered, starts to say something, and I realize I need to clarify.

"It seems to me," I put in, "that you guys worked a lot more than this."

He gets a grin and replies, "If we actually put down what we work on these things... I don't think most people would be very happy."

"Well, I'm not most people. You sure you don't want to give your self a more fair shake? I'd gladly pay it. You deserve it."

He shakes his head vehemently, "No, no, we learn a lot while working on problems like yours. Its our pleasure."

"Ok, well, I'm glad. I'm just saying. I really appreciate it. I know you worked hard," I say. I feel that little ring of truth.

"That's what I do, work hard." He says sincerely.

"Me too." I earnestly reply, recalling church work, school work, class planning, syllabuses, school applications...

"Well, labors of love I suppose," Steve says, and gives me a half-side hug, half clap on the shoulder.

I thank him as I shake his hand.

My car starts like a dream. All the little lights and dials are in the right place. I smoothly accelerate on my way. There are a few things that have happened in the last two minutes that have never happened in my life.

1.) I have never looked at a bill for HUNDREDS of dollars and felt like it wasn't enough.

2.) I have never appreciated the raw yet graceful automobile as I do while driving away from the shop. (Walking and biking, my friend, will give you a very realistic vision of how much work your car really does.)

3.) I have never been hugged by my mechanic. Figure that one out.