In 2003, my parents bought this Pontiac Vibe.
In 2004, I began my university days in St. Louis.
In 2006, I was given this car to use in St. Louis.
Two years later, I'm driving with Dennis on our way to Trader Joe's. He wants pita bread and a specific type of cheese. Ray wants raspberry and strawberry jam. I'm like an giddy kid going to the toy store; I'll grab whatever looks cool.
It's a gorgeous sixty-plus degrees in St. Louis. It has been raining miserably all week. It's supposed to rain tomorrow on Good Friday. Good riddance.
We're driving south on Big Bend about to turn onto Clayton. I realize that something has gotten loose in my window causing it to go all the way down. A bit perplexed I try to bring the window up and it gets stuck half way with the window obviously out of its regular frame. I cautiously tug on the window to see if it will pull up when **KSHHHH **(tinkle tinkle) the window utterly shatters. Small bits of glass everywhere; most of it on me.
I decide not to turn onto Clayton and keep going south.
Dennis and I pause in bewilderment.
The question "What just happened?" is clearly not worth asking at this point.
The window just shattered. Duh.
After about fifteen seconds of sobering silence, Dennis bursts out laughing. I ask him what's so funny, but that's another question with an answer I already know. The peculiarity of the situation is ridiculous. To hell with asking questions that already have answers.
What the heck just happened?
I remember that there's an auto dealership repair shop at Big Bend and Manchester. I continue driving. The three minutes it takes to get there can't pass by fast enough. I miss the first turn before Manchester. I take the next one and circle around. I'm still a bit bewildered. I believe the way I deal with unfortunate events is the exact opposite of hysteria. Sobriety. Bordering on dead wonder.
Eventually, I pick my way out of the car. The guy helping us out (his name is Josh) gives me a rough estimate and tells us that there's a waiting room in the back. Oh, and there's popcorn and soda back there too, hot chocolate and coffee if you want it.
Popcorn and Soda??
The situation is getting more humorous.
Dennis is helping himself to the amenities. First the hot cocoa, then the popcorn. He's making the most of the situation. Apparently he hasn't eaten all day. I call my parents, and that's when the phone games begin. It's back and forth between dealerships and my parents. Looks like the car might be under warranty still. Need to find the nearest dealer. My mom calls me back. Here's the number for the GM driver's assistance. I ask Dennis if he has a pen. "I have my mind," he responds smugly.
I find out the nearest dealer. They close at six. It's 5:45 and my drivers seat is still full of glass. They don't know if they'll cover it. But it's broken because something in the window was loose, I say. Well, they don't have an appointment until Monday. Sigh.
Ray and Joyce have gotten here. Ray's wearing a cutoff and short shorts. I haven't had the chance to say hello. I'm still on the phone.
I try another dealer, they're scheduling for Monday too. Can I get you down for Monday? I'll call you back, I say. I call my mom to explain that even if I did take the car there, it wouldn't be secure in the lot because of the busted window. Isn't that the same as this dealership? Yes. Sigh.
Sometime during this conversation, Ray comes up to me. I ask Ray if he has plans for tonight. He just wants to know what's going on. They're going to have had to wait a little longer than they thought. I'm too busy on the phone to give him a thorough response. It's way past six at this point. Now I can't even talk to the service department at the GM dealerships anymore; they're closed. I call the Driver's Assistance and start to talk to lady. I explain and she arranges for a towing service. I have further questions, but my phone battery is dying. I give her the phone number to the auto center that I'm at but realize that it won't work if it's an automated menu. My phone dies. I need to go find Dennis or Joyce to use their phone. Ray doesn't have his. I find Dennis and Joyce and ask them to use their phone so I can ask my parents what the number is again. Dennis blurts out, "Why don't you just ask me. I have a memory of a monster."
What?
It's the 1-800 #, I say. He dials the rest of the number into his phone and hands it to me.
Lord.
I sit down and talk to another rep. Yeah, she says. We have everything taken care of, they say. The towing company will hold onto the car until tomorrow and then deliver it to the dealership. Okay. Thanks.
I drop off the car key with the guy at the front desk to give to the towing company when they arrive. Dennis wants to go to Riddles. He must go. Or he'll be sad, says Joyce. We climb into Ray's car.
15 minutes later we arrive. It hasn't been 24 hours since last night when I went there with Dennis and Ray to see Ptah Williams and eat homemade ice cream. Fabulous jazz pianist. I find out that Ray's attire is due to his anticipation that he would pick me up right away and go running as soon as returned to campus. No worries, the high school next store to the dealer had a track. He got in a good 15 laps. Imagine that.
Dinner is good. Elias and Lily join us. Dennis dominates the conversation. He might has well. I have no complaints. I remember praying for the food. Thank you for everyone here. I pause.
Thanks.
There's so much to soak in. There are so many blessings to be found in this afternoon that they are no longer disguised. Good weather, a car under warranty, a friend with a freakish memory, with an even freakier sense of humor, a track so that a friend can get in his daily exercise, helpful people at the auto shop, no injuries to report, friends and family on whom I can depend without giving a second thought.
Ray drops me off after dinner. Thanks dude. Let me know when you need to get your car. Handshake that turns into embrace. They should have chest-bumped, I hear Dennis say from the backseat.
Even now, I sit here. A bit overwhelmed. Somber. But for an entirely different reason.
I revisit fall of junior year when my ceiling collapsed. I remember sitting in my room with my head burrowed in my knees thinking about how dreadful the semester had been until then, feeling quite alone. At the end of that semester, I remember finding a care package of fruit from my parents on my front porch after bombing two consecutive finals in the same day and breaking down into tears because I felt so undeserving.
But before I get too lost in thought I remember my family here in St. Louis. And what a family it is. I remember my God, and what a God he is.
Tomorrow is Good Friday. Sunday is resurrection. Today, is grace. Grace revealed, manifested, embodied in bits and pieces of glass. Broken for me so that I might remember the God that I serve, that I might remember my Savior who was broken so that I might be made whole.
Thank you.
