I told Jenny on our way into town yesterday that sometimes I feel like I want to just keep driving.

Sometimes I feel like I want to gas it up and just go.

I just want to get somewhere….get somewhere “away”.

That I told them before I busted a move was more than a courtesy….I know that Jenny and the kids would be concerned long before I hit Memphis…they’d start to wonder why I was doing what I was doing on the downward slope to Knoxville.

I couldn’t get away with an escape from the everyday humdrum if I kept the exit secret from my passengers.

I’m no hijacker.

Later that day, we discovered why the coolant was disappearing from the overflow tank.

The minivan had overheated the day before (that’s a story that needs to be told, too…Jenny and the kids handling the steaming emergency in competent fashion…but I’ll save their story for another day…), but after topping everything off and then bringing the car back up to “temperature”, I didn’t see any hissing or steam…and the leak…wherever it was…remained a mystery.

We drove into town without incident…but when we checked the overflow tank, it was down again.

When we got home, Jenny said, “See? It’s steaming again…”

I popped the hood…and after looking around the engine compartment, noticed a slight stream of water coming from a heater valve …a plastic heater valve…back by the firewall…that was hitting the hot engine and steaming….

Sssssssssssssssssssssssss…..

“There it is!!!” I said….. (probably only one exclamation point on that one, in reality…I wasn’t that excited).

When I reached out to touch the part, it let loose with more dramatic intent….

WHOOOSHPISHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…..SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!

It was a gusher.

And that was so much better than wondering what where the problem was.

Something I can see….something I can put my hand on…something that I can possibly fix.

These are the small comforts that migrate into my life on occasion.

It’s the mysteries that I can’t figure out that bother me.

So I went to the parts store in the little Toyota truck…Nate in the passenger seat…bought the 10 dollar part…got home…and 10 minutes later, the car was fixed.

It took longer to get the tools together than it did to fix the car.

Imagine what would have happened if I was a man without any impulse control?!

We might have been somewhere out in the desert….cruising along and wondering why the overflow tank level kept dropping…when that part decided to finally give way completely and left us worse than just stranded.

It might have been bad.

I’VE GOT CHILDREN IN THE CAR!!! WE CAN’T BE DRIVING OUT INTO THE DESERT IF THINGS ARE GOING TO BE STEAMING LIKE THAT!!! THAT’S NOT GOOD PARENTING!!!!

(I couldn’t remember if I’d ever titled a post “away”…so I did a search on my site with the keyword “away”.  I don’t think I’d have time to read all of the posts that must have mentioned the word.)

What’s this obsession with “away”?

Am I some terrified, moss-free rolling stone, gathering up speed as I move through it all, but thinking “we really shouldn’t do this! I should hold my ground…I have responsibilities…” or am I just another monument to inertia?

I may just bust a move one of these days…but first I need to let these new shoes cure a little more.

The concrete needs time to set, you know.

 

“Going Up the Country” Canned Heat