How a broken radiator taught me to trust my husband more

Last week, my car overheated on the way to get the water switched over to our name at our new house. I told you guys all about it, so of course, because you are such loyal and awesome readers, that you remember ever tiny little detail about it. In case your mind is a little fuzzy on the details, or you missed it because you were vacationing somewhere fabulous and fancy, or just because the post was so awesome you want to go back and read it again, here it is.

A few days after all that took place, Hubs and I were driving around in my car because his car doesn’t have air conditioning and it’s 150-million degrees in Kansas City lately (No? Fine, but it’s hot!), it started to get a little hot again.

Why do we get so upset that our cars can’t keep cool in this heat. WE can’t keep cool in this heat!

When we got home, he checked the water levels and they were low again. That means I had a leak. Uh oh.

But he saw a tiny little line that looked like a crack on the radiator and so set to work finding out where to buy one and thinking about getting it replaced right away.

He tracked down the best deal for the fix: buying the radiator from an auto-store and putting it in himself, and set out to get started.

I balked.

Just a little, but it was enough to make him mad.

I wanted to KNOW that spending the money (unbudgeted, mind you, though we do have an emergency fund)  would fix the problem. We just bought a house. I don’t have a full time job. This is not the time to spend money we don’t have to. I needed some assurance that this money and effort (it seemed like an awful lot of work to put that radiator in ourselves!) would not all be for nothing when we found my car was still loosing water somewhere…

Hubs was angry.

He thought this meant I was arguing with him, doubting his wisdom on fixing the car, blocking him from trying to take action to fix a problem for me, for us, as soon as possible.

I didn’t mean to convey all that with my questions, but I guess I did. He didn’t mean to blow up and get so huffy so fast when all I was looking for was some additional reassurance, but it certainly resulted in a negative reaction from both of us as he stormed down the steps to go find some “proof” this “crack” was the culprit.

Oops. Good thing we forgive easily.

So after a few minutes of huffing and sulking and being salty with each other, we set to work. He filled up the radiator with water and squeezed some big hose for a few minutes until, yup, little water bubbles started foaming out of the tiny little line that did, in fact, turn out to be fairly significant crack in a super important part of the car, especially when it’s 100+ degrees outside.

So we bought the radiator and parked under a shade tree in our apartment’s parking lot. And then we worked all evening, about three hours or so, until we got it changed.

I’m allowed to honestly say “we” there because I helped, really.

I promise I did. You can ask him.

I held the light. I struggled to hold back hoses and stuff that were in his way. I even helped put in some little pin thing that holds the hose in place. I found and picked up stuff he dropped down into the mess of parts and stuff that make up the tangled, confusing mess under the hood of the car whenever the little pins were so small and springy that he could barely hold onto them while having to fight to work in the tiny space between the fan and the radiator to get things all hooked back up properly. I took out and put back in the air filter so he’d have about an inch more room to work….you get the idea.

And pretty soon this happened:

Hubs putting in the last bolt. We’re finally done!

We had successfully taken this out:

Yuck.

And put this in its place:

So shiny and new!

Time to relax and celebrate!

But it was after 9:00 and we hadn’t had dinner, we both needed a shower and we were hot and tired.

So we scrubbed the oil and grease and dirt and stuff off our hands and arms, warmed up some leftovers, and collapsed on our couch for the rest of the night. And by rest of the night, I mean about an hour before we dragged ourselves off to bed.

But in this crazy mess of an afternoon that was supposed to be relaxing (we’d scheduled some QT involving yummy food and FRIENDS on the couch that night), I learned an awesome lesson.

This man that I married never ceases to amaze me or give me more and more reasons to love and respect him. He knows so much about so much and is willing to work hard to do whatever he needs to provide for us. He’s smart and strong and sensible. He’s loving and patient and kind to me when I don’t deserve it.  He’s more than I ever imagined he could be when we danced that first dance together in the gym…when I was 15.

I’m nearly 23 now and you know what? I’m more than I ever imagined I could be, too. Funny how life does that to us, huh?

And I’m grateful to love a man I can trust with my heart, my life, my future babies…and my car.

So very thankful for these hands. And this man.

What I learned from my Jimmy, who got too hot today.

Today I had to drive all the way down to Blue Springs to get the water switched to our name for the new house. Exciting, and also super frustrating since it takes all of five minutes for them to do it, and I had to drive an hour and 20 minutes round trip to do it.

Grr….

But the real issue today was the heat. Yes, it was hot outside. But it was also hot under the hood of my Jimmy. Really hot to be exact.

As in, the temperature gauge was hitting the red line and screaming “Red Line!!”  at me and I saw steam coming out from under my hood.

Ok, the gauge wasn’t screaming out loud, but I swear I heard that in my brain, so I’m sticking to that story.

Good thing I was being a half-way responsible driver and paying attention to such things, right? Well, by paying attention to such things, I mean immediately turning off the A/C and pulling over as soon as I got to a half-way close parking lot to where I was going. Not responsible as in I actually knew what to do when I saw the steam.

I didn’t know what to do at all.

So I freaked out a little bit.

Naturally.

Of course.

But only on the inside, I promise.

On the inside, I could feel myself shaking a little bit as the adrenaline sunk in of almost having to pull over on I70 when it was 90+ degrees outside.

Outside, I was cool as a cucumber as I pulled in the lot, parked, and shut off the engine immediately, grabbing my belongings and hopping out of the car as I started to dial my phone for help.

I wanted to call Hubs, but he was at work and doesn’t always answer right away since he’s often in a meeting or helping someone else on the computer and away from his phone.

So I wanted to call my dad but he was at work and doesn’t always answer right away since he’s a farmer and often has his hands full with cattle or corn or something.

Hmm…

So I took a chance and dialed my dad. I knew he was done with harvest and had been working around the shop yesterday so I bargained that he might be able to answer, and he did! It went like this.

“Hi, I have a problem.”

“…What?”

“My car overheated. I’m in Blue Springs and there’s smoke or steam coming out from under the hood.”

“Ok, where are you?”

“Blue Springs!”

“No, are you off the road?”

“Yes, I’m in a parking lot.”

“Ok.”

“I think it’s steam coming out of the hood, but I don’t know what to do. Pour water on it, open it, what?”

I think the conversation then calmed down some as I came to understand that my car wasn’t going to explode in a steamy fire or something. Ok. I’m not a mechanic, but I’m pretty sure I knew it wouldn’t do that. But it didn’t hurt to hear it from someone who REALLY knew it, you know what I mean?

I also called Hubs at work, and he answered right away, too! Hallelujah! And he agreed that we should get it checked before I tried to drive home. So I called AAA. (Thanks, mom and dad for paying for that!) and went on about the five minutes worth of business I had to do in City Hall. Then I set out to waiting for the tow truck guy to get there.

Spoiler alert: He was late.

In the meantime, I decided my phone was about to die and that would make this all that much more overwhelming and awful so I trotted back over the building I’d parked my steamy car behind and made my way to the first office I saw inside with someone in it. I knocked and a nice, older man answered. While I explained my situation and that my phone was dead, he offered me to use their phone. I said I’d actually really like to charge mine if he didn’t mind.

He didn’t mind.

So I plopped myself down in a chair and pulled out Wyatt’s charger I’d been using in the car and waited silently and awkwardly for about 10 minutes for my phone to fill up a little more on battery. Then I thanked the nice man and headed back outside to find some shade and keep waiting for the tow truck.

When he finally got there, he opened the hood and said this.

“You’re not low on water, at least not much. I can add some, but I’m not sure what that will do. There’s got to be something else wrong with it. You want me to tow it?”

No, sir, I don’t want you to tow it. I want you to tell me what’s wrong with it.

But I realize that isn’t really his job.

So I took his suggestion to drive to a little shop a few blocks away and have them look at it. On the very short trip there, Jimmy got super duper hot again. He was steamy and smelled awful. I felt awful. I was steaming, er, sweating, so I probably smelled awful, too.

The people at Fleming Auto Center were very busy. Dangit. But also very nice after I explained to the nice man at the counter that I could wait for them to work me in this afternoon, but I’m not sure what to do as I think (because my dad told me so) that I just need water in the radiator even though the tow truck guy who recommended I come here said I didn’t need any.

So he went out and looked for me. And instead of just looking at the little plastic reserve tank, which had plenty of water in in, he opened the radiator. Thank you! And said, “Wow, youare bone dry.”

So he added a gallon and a half of plain ol’ water, and my temperature gauge stopped screaming “Red Line!” “Red Line!” at me every time I nervously glanced over at it. Woo hoo!

And the nice man who carried 2 jugs of water out to my hot car on that hot afternoon didn’t charge me anything at all. He did say, “Keep an eye on it, now, and pull over to let it cool off if it gets much over 210.”

I didn’t tell him I was going to watch it like a hawk the entire way home and call my husband to come get me because I was tired of dealing with this on my own if it so much as climbed a line or two closer to that 210 halfway point to the red, screaming line.

I did thank him, and assure him they would be the first place we’d visit with car trouble once we move down to Blue Springs. And then I got the heck on the road home.

What did I learn?

1. It’s hot.

2. I should have worn my hair up today.

3. ALWAYS keep spare hair ties stashed everywhere. My purse, the cup holder in the car, the pocket of my shorts, the glove box, my wrist, Wyatt’s wrist, wyatt’s shorts’ pockets, the wrists and pockets of random strangers…what?

4. Trust my instincts. If something feels off. Pull over even if you’re almost there. If I’d waited an extra block to turn in, steam might have literally come billowing out from under my hood, drawing major attention and worse, hurting my engine.

5. Don’t be afraid to ask for help when you need it. Yes, I won’t become fast friends with every strange man I come in contact with, but today, I didn’t have the option to be overly cautious, shy, or embarrassed to speak up. Both nice strangers today didn’t have to help me, but I needed them to step up and do the right thing, which they did, and I’m so thankful they weren’t creepy or scary or rude to me.

6. Jimmy’s getting old. Put “buy a new car” on the top of our next major to-do list.

7. I can handle stuff like this. I made it all the way down to Blue Springs on I70, which I hate, and dealt with all this crazy, quite calmly, for the most part on my own. Then I made it all the way back home on I70, which I hate, keeping one eye locked on my temperature gauge the whole time, dealing with lunch hour traffic. I didn’t need someone to come save me because I was able to keep it together and just do what I needed to do. Maybe I’m growing up after all.

I mean, a girl can’t rely on her dad, husband, and AAA for everything, forever, right?

But I’m definitely thankful I can call them when I need them.

Lesson #10: ‘Tis better to plan ahead than to be pulled over with expired tags, and an expired license

So, yesterday morning when we woke up, neither Hubs nor I were legal to drive. Oops.

See, his birthday was Saturday, and his license expired that day. And of course, we’ve been too busy being newlyweds and getting new jobs and settling into our apartment, and of course, doing laundry, to pay attention to that sort of thing. So we tried to take care of it that day. But, of course…the bureau isn’t open on Saturdays, or Sundays. Uh Oh.

So on Monday morning, he set out to go get a new license, but he didn’t have all the documents he needed. (Yes, we should have checked that ahead of time, but we didn’t.) Thus, another day of living life on the edge passed.

As for me, my parents technically still own my car.  Tthus, they needed to file the paperwork to get my license plate renewed before December. I went and got it inspected up here, and took the paperwork to them one weekend in November when we were visiting home. Then, Mom went and got the new stickers for the plate, but there was the problem of getting them up here to me. Since we won’t be seeing them for another couple weeks, we didn’t want to wait that long. It is illegal, after all, to drive with expired tags. And I’m not one for doing illegal things, as anyone who knows me would know.

But…since we don’t trust our mail right now (My late Uncle Harold would understand…) because we’ve had some things get lost both coming and going…she decided to mail it overnight to my aunt who lives close to us and I’d just go pick it up.

So that’s what we did, and I remembered to send Hubs’s birth certificate with him to work and sent periodic emails to remind him not to forget about it.

And despite our “reckless living,” neither of us had any actual trouble with the law over all this. We got it taken care of and we moved on. But, it could have happened. Moral of the story? Be more on top of things like this. Although it would have made a better story for you if something “bad” always happened when we screw up this way, it’s much easier to do these things ahead of time.  (Goodness, I sound like my mother when I say that.)