Car As A Metaphor For Life

Ryan is a pretty closed mouthed dude when it comes to expressing emotional type shit.  This whole cancer trip has given him the opportunity to be a little more vocal about his feelings and fears and stuff, but still, overall, he's pretty quiet.

Today he posted something on facebook, though, that really made me smile.  Something so "him" that was right in front of my face this past week but I did not really grasp until he put it out there.  And it was... about a car.

Backstory:  Before I got sick, we had decided that we really wanted to get me into an all wheel drive car before the winter came.  I am a nervous snow driver, and Ryan liked the piece of mind he felt he would have if I was in a car that could kick a blizzard in the ass.  We picked up an older BMW 325ix, and I really liked it.  We sold my Volvo wagon (still miss that guy...).  And almost immediately after, I got my diagnosis.  And then almost immediately after THAT, the timing belt went on the bimmer.  So suddenly, I didn't really have a functional car.  Ryan solved this by throwing cars at the problem.  He acquired the Previa minivan, which I started driving, a 1989 Volvo (which has more recently become my regular car), and an Eagle Talon.  Not really sure of the logic behind replacing one busted car with three... but cars are his thing and he did what he could do.  At a time when he was looking at such a HUGE problem (my cancer) that he could NOT solve, this was something he COULD fix... so he fixed it in triplicate.

The BMW got parked until he could devote time to it once I was better.  So, now that I'm better, he had been working on it.  After a couple setbacks, it ended up parked again, but this past week, after many hours and many dollars, IT RUNS!  And not only does it run, but he was able to take it down today and run it in the autocross - which is something he's wanted to do for years and has finally been doing this summer.

This is what he posted on today that just made my chest hurt...

So... This car blew up on me back in December when Phoebe was starting to get really sick. I had no time or energy for it so I parked it and said it would get fixed when Phoebe was better. Last Thursday, after two top-end tear downs because of a craigslist deal gone sour, I was finally able to get it back together. Something about this car going down the road again feels really good. Today my brother and I drove it to 2nd and 4th place finishes at NORA autocross against a lot of newer, faster, less rusty, more expensive (but not as well-driven) cars.


It seems ridiculous, on some level, that this made me get all misty-eyed.  But it's so true.  That car blew up right as I, technically, blew up.  And now I am fixed.  And the car is fixed.  It's a convoluted, goofball metaphor, but it makes sense why it is such a big deal for him.  And it makes me so happy to see him so happy!


Love that guy.


Xxo, Phoebe

Comments

speck said…
fucking love the shit out of both of you!

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