High Inconvenience: Higher Blessings III

The following Saturday, I was preparing to go for a jog. While sipping my morning coffee in the garage, two cats emerged from the gap between the squished trunk and the fender of the Taurus.  An unseemly cat house, indeed. 

I opened the trunk, checking inside for…I dunno…kittens.  There were no remnants of a feline one-night-stand, but the latch on the bumper wasn't flush with the trunk. It wouldn't close. I wanted to go for a run, not mess with the darned trunk! Crying in frustration for a few minutes, I took a deep breath, pouring another cup of coffee. That still small voice said, 'Lyn. You're a surfer! You have bungee cords. Go get 'em."

I fiddled with the cords, hooking one end of each into metal loops underneath the rear end of the Taurus. Slipping the other end upward through a gap and into slots on each side of the license plate, viola!  The trunk was...semi-secured. I got to work using duct tape to cover the cat-gap. It matched the silver paint on the car…sort of. I'm pleased that tape and bungee cords are the scruffy, aftermarket accessories on back side of the vehicle. I couldn't be prouder of my resourcefulness.  

However, crouching down in the passenger seat whenever I took him to school, Juan wasn't quite as resilient. His attitude was understandable on the one hand: he was sixteen going on seventeen.  On the other hand, his mumbling and grumbling hurt my feelings.  What did I expect, though? Applause?  How about a little understanding? Then I remembered I had been an occasionally petulant 16-year-old, too, notwithstanding subsequent house arrest for mouthing off as ordered by the Parental High Court. 

Remember Nena, the insurance adjustor? She came back to my home with an acceptable settlement offer taking care of the injuries my son and I sustained.  My sister, Michelle, is an adept attorney and since the car is hers, she handled the settlement for the vehicle damage.   

My son's seventeenth birthday was coming up on November 30. He wanted to take driving lessons a couple of months before. Guess what he got for his birthday?  Temecula Valley Driving School provided the instructors and the vehicles.  They met Juan on campus after school for one lesson.  They picked him up at home for a Saturday afternoon cruise. The last lesson was on a Wednesday evening.  They were very accommodating and expeditious: Temecula Valley Driving School.

Juan slated his driving test at the Temecula DMV, November 21 at 0840 hours.  Everything was going well. We had an early breakfast and such, planning to arrive at 0800 hours. Cruising southbound on the I-15, I thought he was driving us to the DMV. He passed the Murrieta Hot Springs (MHS) exit (we take either MHS or Rancho California Rd rather than Winchester Rd.).

   "Where are you going, son?"

   "I'm not driving this car," he said, indignantly. "It won't pass the DMV inspection. That's what my driving instructor said. I'm not driving this rattletrap for the test!" I'm paraphrasing his outburst.

   "Well, just go to school, then. I don't blame you one bit," I said. That's not what I was thinking AT ALL. "You'd be wise to make some phone calls and borrow a car," I suggested.

   "I already did, mom. Don't you think I know what I'm doing? Everyone I know has a classy car with tinted windows. The DMV won't allow tinted windows," he said, frustrated.

  "I hope it works out for you, son," I said as he went off to class.  Which got me to thinking that he might be right. I kept the appointment at the DMV to have the car inspected. Jason was one of the arbitrary DMV preceptors slated to render Juan's driving test.

  "Get in the car and turn on the left blinker," Jason instructed while walking around the vehicle. "Now, the right. Turn on the headlights.  It's not a pretty car, but it'll do.  We've seen worse around here," he said. 

Of course, I did some gloating afterward. I took photos of the DMV parking lot sign, attaching it to a text message addressed to Juan: 'Snooze, ya lose.' We left it at that.   To be continued...

Lynda StarWriter is a freelance writer and public speaker.  lyndastarwriter@aol.com ~ www.starwriterweekly.com