Flexibility

Monday evening, Dan and I had highly admirable plans to take ourselves to a yoga class (very good of us) and follow it up with a healthy dinner. (Dan had not been made aware of the “healthy” portion of this plan, but I felt it would be unnecessary to spring that upon him before the appointed dinner time.) As tends to happen, Life decided to mix things up a bit.

I will admit that I had not been really “feeling” the yoga class. I biked to work, and it felt unusually difficult. This was most pathetic, as it is less than two miles each way. I can only speculate that this lack of physical stamina is a result of my insomnia and subsequent sleep deficit. Regardless of the reason, I was feeling tired and not keen on additional physical exertion. In his typical manner, Dan had set things up in such a way that I could not modify our plans without looking like a twat. He had – that very day – gone out and purchased a pair of athletic pants for the EXPRESS purpose of attending yoga class with me. (It DID seem suspicious to me that he did not own a SINGLE pair of athletic pants, but I could hardly search his closet to make certain that he wasn’t making this up.) Sigh. I was forced to resign myself to sticking with the plan.

At the appropriate time, I trotted off to my car and climbed in. Turning the key in the ignition, I was a bit surprised to find that the vehicle seemed reluctant to start. Sure – it had been complaining a bit about turning over for the past few weeks, but Rob had assured me just a couple of days earlier that my battery would last until winter. Was he ever WRONG!! Within seconds, the battery was completely dead. Even the interior clock tracked the time no more. I considered this for a few moments. Was the universe agreeing with my theory that I should take the night off? The more I reflected, the less likely this seemed. How was I going to relax with a dead car battery? Now I was facing – instead of a yoga class and dinner – a night of greasy engines and complicated thing-ys. What was this about, then?

It all seemed a bit odd to me. On Saturday, I had been in the process of replacing a headlamp bulb (that had been burned out for over two months… some sort of weird mental procrastination going on there) when the other bulb burned out. Yes – at PRECISELY the moment that I was changing the dead one. Strange? Yes. Out of place in my life? No. If it’s weird, and a “freakish coincidence,” it will happen to me. But – once again – I have digressed. At this moment, I had a dead battery to attend to.

I called Dan to inform him of this new development. After giving me grief for some time (he’s been QUITE full of the comments since finishing his classes and finding himself free to sit about and think of smart-ass things to say), he agreed to be my knight-in-dirty-Buick-mobile for the night. An hour later, we were climbing into The Bubomb. I adore this car. It is ancient – a white Bonneville that has seen better days, but they happened so long ago that it has since lost its vision. The white exterior is set off by assorted battle scars, and the engine and internal parts – much like an elderly person – engage in an ongoing litany of all that ails them. Stopped at a streetlight, the car may spontaneously emit a loud and attention-grabbing rattle or squeal for the benefit of those surrounding. This is – in my opinion – a delightful trait. As I climbed in the passenger side door, I admired the black gaping hole where the side mirror once resided. I’ve been working – for a while – on persuading Dan to tear off at least a portion of the front bumper. I REALLY feel like this would add a lot to the Bubomb. Happily I settled back into the cracked finish of the bucket seat. In cheerful greeting, the radio went a bit crazy as we pulled out – refusing to actual “tune” a station in and ignoring all prompts related to volume control. I sent a warm mental greeting back.

This car is made all the more enjoyable because it is a car that Dan CHOOSES to keep for reasons other than necessity. Certainly he could purchase a conformist car if he so chose, but he has not – thus far – chosen to do so. The Bubomb and he get on quite well. I like this about them.

After fortifying ourselves with a tasty Thai dinner, we began our battery-seeking quest. It did not take long – actually – to procure the object that we sought. Really it required only a stop at the Sears auto center. Still, it was clever of us to know right where to go.

Back at the ranch, we descended into the bowels of the underground garage. Lighting was poor, and there might have been gang members lurking in the corners, waiting to pounce upon us. (Or not. I may be taking some creative liberties here, but who’s to know for certain?) I popped the hood of the Ravis and we took a look underneath. Unfortunately, there was a large piece of plastic covering the battery. Even more unfortunately, it was held in place by some sort of torture device clearly invented by the Japanese manufacturers SPECIFICALLY to frustrate the American consumers. As I cursed under my breath and twisted, pulled, tugged, and pushed at the plastic pieces, I pictured the Japanese designers giggling in delight as they imagined this very scenario. (For some time, Dan was NO help at all. He was – actually – a bit of an ANNOYANCE as he smirked and snickered at my efforts. That all changed when I turned the task over to him.)

As we worked, together, through the process of changing the car battery, I reflected on the similarities between what we were doing and what we had originally intended to be doing. In either case, we were – undeniably – forced to be “flexible” – both in mind and body. I watched Dan contort himself into a bizarre angled position that enabled him to use his “stronger” hand on a particularly resistant nut. Was this how either of us had pictured our evening? No. (At least I hope not…) Yet we were in good spirits, and enjoying the experience for what it offered. I don’t know that I could say that I would have chosen that the night go any differently.

At the end, when we had successfully replaced the battery and closed the hood, I paused for a moment. I looked at my hands, covered in grease, and at Dan’s, equally as grimy. I smiled. Whether on the mat or under the hood of a car, life was ensuring that I attended class tonight. For that I was grateful.