I inherited the car I drove in college from my mother. By then it was probably eight or nine years old. It then got handed down to my brother, five years my junior. If Gino and I were to write our biographies, the years of driving that '89 Corolla would make up the character building chapters.
I remember that the car used to overheat often. Until one of my uncle's mechanics discovered that the previous mechanic installed the fan the wrong way. It was blowing air away from the radiator. The car also had a knack of locking people out. Somehow the lock had gotten loose, and even if you just closed the door lightly, the lock would come down. It taught me to never leave my keys inside.
One time, while driving in the rain, Gino had to stop the car, get out, and wipe the windshield. In his rush to get out, the door half closed. The lock dropped. And Gino was locked out. Since the door was only half closed, Gino figured he could push it to close completely and the lock would pop back up. Illogical, yes, but standing in the pouring rain, on a busy street, his cellphone inside the car, he was out of options. He muttered a quick prayer and gave the door a hard shove to close. The lock popped up and Gino was never so happy.
Why did Gino have to step out to wipe the windshield? Because the wipers' rubber were torn and I couldn't afford to replace them. Even when I eventually replaced them, I still waited until visibility was nearing nil before flicking that wiper switch. I was conserving the rubber. That's habit that carries to today, even I've finally gotten a relatively newer car. I have to be driving to an absolute downpour before I even begin to think about wearing out the wipers.
I'm only writing about this now because I had new wipers installed today. Ahead of the coming rains, and before the rubber's completely worn out. I got reminded that problems usually sort themselves out, that we get to better days, and that the bad days are still worth a laugh.
