I wish I had a new car….but I don’t. I have an 11 year old Toyota that is going to pass the 250k mile mark in the next week. It has 4-5 dashboard warning lights that stay on all the time. It has a sporadic quirk with the brakes that make them sound like they are going to fall out of the front end. The rear heat does not work. The dvd player has “Chicken Run” stuck in it. We’ve replaced the rear hatch handle twice. The side mirror motor went crazy one day and wouldn’t stop turning the mirror so we had it disconnected. The clear coat is almost gone. Rubber window trim falls off of it from various places every once in a while. I was stuck in the Walmart parking lot the other day because the key was locked in the ignition and would not turn. I hate my truck. I wish I had a new one.
I love my truck. I’ve put 135k miles on it since I bought it four years ago. We go everywhere together. I’ve taken a road trip with 5 coworkers to an out of state convention, packed to the gills. A week-long spring break vacation to take my mom to see Monticello and Biltmore. Florida coasts and Tennessee smokies. Early morning trips to the donut shop before the girl’s school day, and late night solo drives to de-stress. My truck fits me like a glove. I don’t have to think about how to drive it, I just do.
It’s wearing out, though. The ignition was getting stuck, like I mentioned, and the heater wasn’t wanting to switch over to heat. These are problems. Irritating problems. But Jerod took it in to the shop this morning, and after a few hours and a couple hundred dollars… all is well again.
See those shiny headlights? I replaced those after the factory lights became so dull and cloudy I could hardly see at night. Fixed it!
So anyway… all this patching and irritation and troubleshooting and fixing got me to thinking. I was thinking because I was stuck at my house with my beloved broken down Toyota at the shop, and I was raking leaves because I couldn’t leave my messy home today. Yardwork makes me think.
Anyway, again… my marriage is like my Toyota.
It was beautiful, clean, exciting and new. We went places and did things and we RELIED on each other and that was all there was because that was all that was needed.
But now, we are 14. Jerod and I just celebrated our 14th anniversary a few weeks ago. We have hundreds of thousands of miles under us and between us, and for what it’s worth, sometimes it starts to show. We are worn out. I don’t think it’s cute when he falls asleep on the couch and he doesn’t stand for me to boss him around anymore. He still hasn’t figured out how to pick up after himself, and I nitpick at everything he isn’t doing that I think he should. We don’t fight much, but when we do, it’s harder and deeper. It’s broken down like me sitting in my old Toyota in the Walmart parking lot, trying desperately to turn the key so I can go home.
We could do what some people do. We could trade in the old white Sequoia and get a brand new truck. We could throw our hands up in the air and go find someone new to love.
But, we love old things.
I love my marriage to Jerod just like I love my old, worn out truck. We’ve been places. We’ve gone on long adventures and repetitive, mundane errands. We’ve grown up together and I would never in a million years want to start over with someone new. So when things break down or get worn out…
We’ll just fix it.
And then I’ll check out my truck when he brings it home and I’ll find that instead of cleaning up after himself, he’s left me a mess of dead ducks to find! Bless MY heart! I’m gonna kill him…