Beginning of the end

Here is the mural outside the woman-owned mechanic shop that gave me the final diagnosis on this car, my companion of the past 18 years. I bought it new in Houston, Texas in 2003, planning for it to be my last car. It came with me to Oregon in 2008, packed to the rooftop with all that remained of my worldly possessions after I downsized before leaving Texas. 

Its head gasket is failing. It is in its last months. 

So it's time for a transition. I could take every last penny of savings I have in the world and ask more from everyone who loves me, to risk buying a used car--and who would I ask for money when I needed to repair it when it broke down? and what happens when I need dental work? a camera? a computer? new glasses? I think it's time to learn to function in this American life without a car. I imagined it would happen in the future--much like climate change and death, always something that I knew was coming in the future. Cross that bridge when we get to it and all that. Climate change has already happened. 

The pandemic has made public transportation worrisome, but I'm hoping the car will last till I've had the vaccinations. In the grand scheme of things, this is a triviality. A small passage. An adjustment. 

Breaking the silence
Of an ancient pond,
A frog jumped into water —
A deep resonance.
--Basho, translated by Nobuyuki Yuasa. (Other translations.)