August 11, 2021
Despite the fact that I have
ridden in my daughter’s 2013 Ford Escape more than a few times—especially since
she moved in with us in 2019—I can’t say that I had any real understanding of
how the car worked.
Well, yes, I knew how to drive
it, but beyond that—I didn’t know where anything was. In other words, I was
completely clueless. And the only reason that this matters, is that as of last
Thursday, that vehicle is now mine to drive.
This car was made by a different
car company from my last three cars—they were all Buicks, and therefore made by
G.M.—but it is also four years newer than my recently departed Buick, and those
four years from 2009 to 2013 encompass an amazing amount of change in
technology.
Yet the most challenging thing
for me, so far, has nothing to do with the technology. It’s that I can’t easily
see the hood. The first thing I did was to monkey around with the seat controls.
Surprise! I had already positioned the seat as high as it would go. I think
this is going to be a matter of simply driving it and parking it, until I can
get a sense of where the car’s front end…ends. It’s not a matter that’s
important for driving, because you get a sense of perspective when you’re in
traffic—and I’ve never been a tailgater. But parking is a whole other matter. The
Escape is a bit longer than my previous car, but the hood appears to be a bit
shorter. I have to be very careful so as not to bump into any parking barriers.
I have no doubt at all that I’ll
eventually master this challenge. But I also understand that it’s going to take
me a bit longer to do so than it did back in 2012 when I got my last new-to-me
car. Whether or not I want to accept the truth has nothing at all to do with the
fact that the truth is still the truth: my ability to roll with the punches, to
go with the flow, and to adapt to changes has all slowed a bit over the last
decade. Seriously, for me at least, it seems like the difference between 58 and
67 is functionally more than just nine years.
I’ve never seen the sense in getting
upset over what can’t be changed. At least, not over the long haul. There may
be an initial little hissy fit when I understand that I have to make
adjustments in the form of either the allocation of my time or the amount of
effort required to perform a task. Worse, of course, are the moments when I
understand that sometimes, I simply can not physically do whatever it is I want
to do.
I’ve often noted in these
essays that it’s not the purpose of life to show us a good time or to make the
going easy on us. The purpose of life is to try us and test us and to help us to
grow. Growing is what we humans do, it is our main purpose from birth to
death; growing is the business of being.
We’re called upon to make
adjustments in our perceptions of reality all along the path we travel in this
life. Some are as the result of natural forces, and some are brought about by
external occurrences.
When one becomes older,
practically everything begins to slow down. I’ve often told friends that I can
live with the Good Lord making my mobility less than it was. I just pray he won’t
befuddle my mind.
I am not, at this time,
one-hundred percent certain He’s granting my petition.
I do know that the more patience
I can embody, the easier these life-adjustments will become. As with everything
else in life, how I deal with any given situation is my choice. That is
something I have long believed and that I accept without conditions.
The only teeny-tiny little problem
with that stance is that apparently, the older I get, the less patience I seem
to have to draw upon. Who knew it was a finite supply? I didn’t, and it’s been
a bit of a shock to learn it’s so. I think that the real issue is that somewhere
along the line I’ve developed a leak in my patience reservoir. And I don’t know
if there’s enough duct tape in all creation to fix it.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
No comments:
Post a Comment