A FORTUNATE Breakdown

A FORTUNATE BREAKDOWN
KENNETH E. HALL       1 April, 1998           HOUSTON


There is a saying in Spanish: "No hay mal que por bien no venga. Roughly translated, it means that no bad can come that you can't get something good out of it. --- Every cloud has a silver lining.

&

My mother and I lived in the Washington, D.C. area from 1955 to 1961. We often referred to this time period as our "Baroque Period." I mean, we were ALWAYS Baroque! We had just enough for rent and food; the car took the rest. We were Baroque. Period!

Back then we were poor. We were SO poor!
How poor were we?
We were so poor, that in English class, I conjugated the verb "to break" as break, broke, BANKRUPT!

We were SO poor, our Latin motto was: IN HOC TU OFEN!

We were SO poor, we were living on asbestos... we were doing as BESTos we could!

OK, maybe it wasn't THAT bad, but believe me, we were broke. Nevertheless, we made the best of these bad times and turned them into good times despite an appalling lack of folding green. Money isn't everything, but a little sure could have come in quite handy back then.

We knew this man called Captain Tom. He had a cabin cruiser and lots of money. But he had his happiness in his bank account - not in his life. I am sure he would have gladly traded his monetary wealth for some true happiness.

We couldn't have been too poor: we had a car. Actually, the truth be told, we were probably poor because of the car!

We nicknamed the car Kate Mehitabel, after a feline character in the novel "Archy and Mehitabel", who was an old ally cat - but would often sing:  "There's life in the old gal yet!" and, like nearly every other car we ever had, it was always one step away from the mechanic's, and two steps away from the junkyard. We owned more rattletrap contraptions than the law allows, and every last one of them had a voracious appetite for money. Kate Mehitabel was certainly no exception.

My mother tried to save up her money so she could buy a pair of shoes, but every doggone time she had just enough to buy a pair, sure enough, the car would need something done, and whatever it was would cost her every cent she had saved up, and then some. Talk about frustrating!!

If anyone were to make a comment about our transportation, she kept it positive: "It has four wheels, a motor, and it runs!" --- and it did --- Most of the time. 

One lovely Spring day in maybe 1960, Mom & I decided to drive to Rock Creek Park for a picnic. This was something we had done many, many times on weekends. I thoroughly enjoyed those outings and remember them with fondness. We also enjoyed going out for rides, when the car wasn't in the shop.

This particular day, we did not make it to the park. I pointed out a highway which I hadn't noticed before.

"Mommy" I asked, "Look - I wonder where THAT road goes?"

"I don't know, Sweet Angel," she answered, "Let's find out!" To my delight, we rounded the traffic circle and turned onto the highway. There was a sign that I read as "David Highway," but it really was "Divided Highway."

We headed out of the smog and congestion of D.C. and Arlington and headed out into the Virginia countryside. We didn't know where the road lead to, and didn't much care. It was such a beautiful day for for a picnic and a lovely day for a ride in the country. Things were going fine for awhile; then I smelled something awful. We had past some huge smokestacks belching thick, black smoke skyward, but that was some time ago.

Finally I piped up: "Mommy, I smell something like rubber burning!"

Mom, then, smelled it, too, and before long there began to issue dark, stinky smoke from beneath the hood of out car. Gazing at the deserted highway before us, Mom began to despair. We were now on a narrow, two-lane country road with just a bare bit of earth for a shoulder. What was worse, there wasn't a town, farmhouse, or gas station in sight. The smoke was getting thicker and thicker.

"Please, God" Mom prayed silently as we continued on our smoky way, "Don't let us break down so far from help!" I can only imagine now as an adult what ran through her mind as she contemplated our situation. Our outlook appeared bleak indeed...

Yet often help is only a prayer away.

Fortunately, on the side of the road just ahead there appeared a farmhouse - in the middle of nowhere! This was it... farmhouse of no we had to stop - the smoke was just too thick to continue. Seeing the house, Mom immediately pulled off onto the shoulder of the road, and she turned off the ignition, and jumped quickly out of the car. I did the same from my side. We were afraid the thing was going to catch on fire and blow up. It didn't, but smelly smoke still gushed forth from the hood.

We were stranded out there in the sticks on a desolate, forlorn stretch of road, far from help... and our car was on fire, or just about to be. As we were looking at our poor car puffing inky smoke, we were distracted by the shouts of a few small children.

"Mommy, come quick! Their car is on FIRE!" came the screams of a little boy and girl who, just seconds before, had been swinging from an old rubber tire hanging from a tree in the front yard.
Right away a lady emerged wearing an apron. She came over to investigate the commotion.

Happily, the fire we feared never got to the open flame stage. It was only smoke.With the ignition turned off, whatever was burning simmered down, and the danger of the car burning up had passed. The lady kindly invited us inside.

"Go get your daddy, quick!" the lady told her little boy, who immediately sped off down the road on his bicycle.

We were relieved that the car, such as it was, was still in one piece. Now came the realization that we were stranded far from home. The lady told us that we were not too very far from a small town, and that her husband had gone to an auction there. Pretty soon the boy returned with his dad.

"What's the trouble, lady?" the man asked.

"I don't know," Mom replied, "The car just started to smoke real badly just a ways down the road, like it was going to catch on fire."

"I'll take a look and see what's wrong," the man promised.

So, there, under that big tree with the tire swing and the farmhouse family, we had our picnic in the country - complete with homemade ice tea!

Then came the bad news: "Lady, your clutch burned up, and will have to be replaced. I'm going to go into town or parts," the man related, matter-of-factly. Then he drove off in his truck.

We enjoyed our visit immensely. The ladies talked, and I played with the kids - eager for a new playmate. A few hours later the man came in. His calloused hands were now black with grease.

"Well, it's fixed!" he said, smiling.

My mother was on the verge of tears when she said: "but I don't have any money to pay you!" She added: "Write down your address and I'll send you ten dollars every two weeks until it's paid off."

Without a moment's hesitation, the man smiled and said, reassuringly: "That's all right, Ma'am. You don't owe me anything. One day my wife might break down and someone will help her out."

As we left that old farmhouse and family on that narrow country highway, we came away with much more that we could have ever hoped for. My father-in-law says: "Diós aprieta, pero no afloja." This simply means: "God may squeeze you, but he'll never let you go!" The going may get bad, but he'll always be there for you.

Often help is only a prayer away.

We should know: the place where we broke down was not just ANY random farmhouse. We broke down in front of the home of the town MECHANIC!


HERE IS ANOTHER STORY ABOUT KATE MEHITABEL:

http://kennyduke.blogspot.com/2014/04/nobody-shimmies-like-my-old-car-kate.html