You're Thankful For What?

I've got a Toyota Matrix. Got it when Little Man was a baby because I knew I couldn't keep crawling into the back of my Saturn Coupe much longer to strap him into his car seat.  Now Little Man, and my Toyota are both 10 years old. For a person, that means he's still got a lot of life left to live, but for a car, not so much.

My awesome, reliable car now has over 192,000 miles racked up under the hood and it desperately needs a new clutch.  Let's just say you do not, ever, want to get stuck behind me coming out of a full stop. My car chugs along at snail's pace for quite a while now, like a little old lady pushing a walker.  Pushing the gas pedal to the floor or pumping it does no good. Neither does yelling at it or pleading with it. Believe me, I know.  And no matter how close you get behind me, flash your high beams, or honk your horn and yell obscenities, you cannot intimidate it, or me, to go any faster. Just not going to happen.

But, and here's the strange part, I have learned to be thankful for my slow little car.  It has taught me to relax, slow down, and enjoy the ride. It's kind of zen-like and freeing to not be caught up in the race. I'll get there when I get there, until the day I won't.  So go ahead and stress yourself out trying to make me go faster. I'm good.  Better yet, why don't you just pass me? I'm in no hurry.

(So, yeah, I know the car needs to be fixed. We're working on that, but for now I'm also doubly thankful we live in a small community where most of the speed limits are 30 or slower. Yeah, for Lower Slower Delaware.)