Of Cars and Blessings

Once upon a time there was a girl who spent a summer roaming the prairies. She spent many hours capturing the beauty of it all in her camera, and embracing the relationships at each destination she visited.

The girl loved to drive, and she loved her car (Aubergine). While aesthetically, its decade of age was visible, the girl was always cognizant of Aubergine's well-being underneath the hood, and took care to keep it running properly.

Before departing on a Saskatoon adventure for the weekend, the girl thought it wise to top up Aubergine's engine oil for the long drive--the fourth long-distance trip her car had made that summer. Aubergine performed beautifully, as always, throughout the trip.

Several days later, the girl and Aubergine found themselves at a stoplight. The girl noticed a smell like gasoline. She presumed the source to be the car beside her and thought nothing of it, until she found herself alone at a red light moments later and noticed the smell again. Upon arriving at her destination, she sniffed briefly around the front of her vehicle, but could detect nothing. Not having the time to look at things closely right then, she made a mental note to check under the hood upon her return home.

After cooling down back in her own garage, the girl popped Aubergine's hood. The problem was immediately apparent: the engine's oil cap was gone. There was oil residue all over the inside of the hood and most of the engine. The girl immediately had flash-backs to the week before, when she had added the oil to her car. She saw herself set the oil cap beside the engine while she added oil, and knew that in her haste and excitement to get on the road, she had most likely forgotten to put the cap back on when she was done.

She stood, staring at the engine, her brain taking in the realities of the situation:

I have driven over 1,000km without an oil cap.
I have driven for almost a week without an oil cap!
That cap is so gone; I can just see it, lying at the side of the highway near some canola field.
Or maybe it fell out here? What are the chances of that?
Holy crap, I can't believe I didn't ruin the engine.
I don't think I've ruined the engine...
How much oil did I lose?
I can't believe my car is still running.
Great, now I have to get a new oil cap.
When does the Honda parts department open? Should I go in the morning or after work?
I hope duct tape will seal it enough until I get there.
I should probably add more oil.

As the girl headed into her house for duct tape, she could only reflect on how lucky she was to have not--seemingly--damaged the engine.

Before applying duct tape, the girl poked around under the hood with a flashlight in the hopes that the cap had fallen in amongst the hoses and wires and gotten caught before it had a chance to hit pavement. It was a slim chance, but she had to try. Nothing. Still, she felt grateful that all she had lost out of this experience was some oil and the cap--a cap that would probably be less than $10 to replace.

The girl checked the dipstick to see just how much oil she had lost. Wipe, dip, check. The oil level showed to be fine. Pretty much right where it had been when she'd topped it up last week. No way. Wipe, dip, check. Still good. She hadn't lost that much oil after all. Now she felt extremely grateful that all she had lost out of this experience was the cap.

She cut a strip of duct tape and sealed it over the hole. As she picked up the roll of tape to cut a second strip, she happened to glance down through the car, and noticed a black, cylindrical object sitting on the undercarriage of the front bumper. She nearly dropped the tape. You have got to be kidding me. It was the oil cap. It could have been the holy grail with all the awe she gave it as she pulled it up through the hoses and wires.

Over 1,000km.

A week on the road.

That cap should have been gone.

That oil should have been gone.

And, consequently, that car should have been broken.

But it wasn't. With the exception of a greasy engine and hood, all was fine. She had been spared from learning the hard way--not the first time this summer. The experience of walking through the situation cognitively had been enough brain work for one night. A bit dumbfounded by the blessing, she nevertheless thanked God for it as she closed up the garage and went into the house for the night.

"Experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn. My God, do you learn." — C.S. Lewis