How often do we hear it. It’s the little things that make life worthwhile. I get the concept and believe in it wholeheartedly, but I have a quibble or two. A little bowl of potato chips? That’s a little thing. I hate to say it’s not worthwhile, but it hardly beats a big bowl of chips.
A little dish of ice cream? A little peck on the cheek rather than a full-on smashmouth? A little bit of money or a pocketful? Hmmm.
But I guess what is being argued is that it is the little moments, gestures, gifts and even brief smiles from strangers that enrich our lives. The events of the past couple of weeks have me wondering.
My 19-year-old Chevy, one year away from claiming classic status, decided to quit running. Not while it was parked n my driveway, but instead as I was driving down the street. One day, it was the main street of our town. It simply died, as though it had run out of gas. I coasted onto a nearby sidestreet and a quick check showed almost a full tank. I restarted the car, no problem. And drove off.
This happened several more times, especially when I was stopped at traffic lights.
So, off to my mechanic I chugged. He opened the hood and was horrified to see that several important wires were missing. And as a result of that, the car was failing to get the right information about things. It kept getting the idea, for example, that the car was out of gas.
“You’ve had a hungry family of mice living in here,” he said, pointing to several chewed off wires. After a little more inspecting, he pulled out a chestnut that had been deposited in a cavity, possibly as a peace offering or a rent deposit by the mice.
Now, mice are little things. Little things in my life. They are not bringing me happiness.
Auto repair bills, on the other hand, are not little things. Nor are the sobs of grief that follow the paying of same.
Today, following the mechanic’s advice, I bought a bag of mothballs, and was advised against my plans to either train a cat to live above my engine or install a bunch of mousetraps. I opened my hood and tucked them here and there wherever I could find an opening. Mice hate the smell they give off and won’t go near the car.
I would like to officially thank all the moths that gave up their precious mothhoods to keep my old car going. Their balls might appear small to me, but they must have appeared gigantic to them.
I have a little car. After all these years, it still makes my life worthwhile.
So there is that, I suppose.
©2024 Jim Hagarty
