You’re Fine. So Why Are You Crying? 😭

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If you’re familiar with the 110 freeway in Los Angeles, you may know that the on-ramps are unbelievably short and ridiculously tight — because they were designed when cars topped out around 45 mph. Some of those on-ramps require a full stop and then a balls out sprint to get to at least 60 mph within 15 feet before merging into speeding traffic. Yowsa.

So you might be able to imagine my terror on a lovely Saturday morning when my car broke down just as I was Lando Norris-ing my way onto the 110. My car would not get past 15 mph no matter how hard I pressed the gas. And then the steering wheel started to freeze up. (I later learned that new cars go “limp” when there’s a system disruption. Am I the only one who thinks that this is a very bad idea?)

I tell my 16-year-old daughter Aurora that something funky is happening and I pull over. There’s no way we’re going to make the martial arts class we signed up for while the dashboard is flashing: hybrid system malfunction.

As I’m digging around for my AAA membership number, I’m trying to stay calm while cars are zipping by us at 70 to 80 miles per hour. I swear they’re moving in closer and faster than my freshman-year homecoming date.

My RAV4 is shaking and rocking from the turbulence. I’m desperate to know how quickly a tow truck can get to me.

Turns out pretty quickly. AAA says a driver will arrive in about 15 minutes, which is great because the AC is not working anymore. Aurora and I have rings of sweat under our pits and my boobs are dripping.

When Martell shows up with the flatbed, he’s got a big smile, sparkly blue eyes, and competency covers him like butter on popcorn. Tears bubble up, but I squash them. We’re fine now.

Martell secures the car lickety split and we’re off to the service place within five minutes. The AC in his cab is crisp and we chat about his three children and his dog and how he works 12 hour days and loves to take his kids to the park but they're growing up so fast and they have their friends and hobbies. He gives Aurora a miniature pack of UNO cards and lets me choose a Matchbox car.

After we drop off the RAV4 and get a rental, Aurora and I walk-run to the nearest IHOP for a stack of comfort pancakes. It’s been a stressful morning, we debate ordering the max: three full stacks = 15 pancakes. (I will not share the results of that debate.)

When we get home, I feel those tears start to bubble again.