It was a Friday and I had a meeting before bank hours at another branch in town. When I went to leave, 'ole Betsy wouldn't start. I hitched a ride with a co-worker as she was leaving. My co-worker let me borrow her car on my lunch break to see if I could get Betsy started. I couldn't. Still, I wasn't panicking. I was sure that my mechanic would be able to just wiggle something and away she would go. After all I had just spent $2500 on her in the last year, almost everything was new, what else could be wrong?
I dropped off the keys with him and said call me. When I didn't hear from him by late afternoon, I called him. I was not prepared for what I heard on the other end of the phone. Fuel pump. $700. That will teach me to be optimistic. You'd think I'd have learned by now, to always expect the worst and then be pleasantly surprised. Somehow, I had forgotten this; my way of life. Now here I was at work, with 3 1/2 hours to go until closing time, with a quivering lower lip and and tears about to explode. I heard myself say, "I can't do it. I can't do it anymore". I hung up the phone, walked into my co-worker's office, sat down and released the floodgates.
She was such a sweetheart, gave me a big long hug and let me cry on her shoulder until I regained my composure. It felt like I was crying for more than just a broken down vehicle. I was crying for all that it meant for me to be without a vehicle. I was going to have to ask for help again, which to me means being a burden on someone, and just as I had begun to stand on my own two feet. Did it ever end? How in the world was I going to cope through this one?