Mark, being both compassionate and smart, traded me cars once summer began. I drove his red Ford Ranger (which in reality isn't big enough for all the people and things I tote about town--but who's complaining, it has great A/C) and he drove the sweltering Jed Clampet-mobile.
And then the starter on the Explorer died in the parking lot of Mark's office. What to do now? How much money do we really want to spend fixing up this old car? Mark and Emily towed the car home with the little red truck and I began wondering how we would all fit into the Ranger to make it to church on Sunday.The next thing I know, Mark is doing extensive online research. "Great!" I think to myself. "He's looking for a new car." Little did realize he was teaching himself how to be a mechanic. Before I knew it, Mark--who has never tinkered much with cars--had found an inexpensive replacement part and was underneath the car installing it.
I kept any doubts or misgivings to myself, and must admit that I was quite impressed by the lack of cursing I heard (perhaps I was out of earshot). In less time that I would have imagined, Mark came into the house with a jubilant request that I come outside to admire his handiwork. Lo and behold, that car starts every time now on the first try!
Mark could be the official spokesperson for Dawn dish soap: Gets Grease Out of Your Way.
Mark has since told me that he doesn't appreciate me referring to "his car" as a Jed Clampet-mobile. I think he has developed a sort of kinship with that old car; he claims it's his Therapy Car. In addition to putting in the new starter, he has replaced the brakes, put in new spark plugs, and numerous other things I know nothing about. He has taught me that I guess we can all learn to do things that we didn't think we knew how to do, and yes--I still get to drive the car with air conditioning.
