I pull over as far as I can onto exit 14, heading east on the 52. I’m as far to the side on the onramp as possible so that cars can make their egress without crashing into my car. Well, it’s not really my car. It’s my mom’s 1999 Lincoln Continental. It’s going nowhere on its own from here. I am as certain it has a blown transmission as I am of my own name.

Just when you think you’ve been given enough trouble, stress, anxiety—WHAM!! A new problem presents itself, and you must pull on your nearly empty reserves in order to deal with it. That’s what happened to me yesterday. A day with lots of promise, but yesterday went back on its promise.

That’s okay. Happens all the time to all of us, right? Sometimes, though, it just gets old, dealing with one thing after another.

In the moment it took to make it to the side of the freeway, relatively out of harm’s way, I felt myself buckling and I had to reach down into whatever it is that sustains me and grab some pluck. That’s exactly the word for it. Pluck.

Fearlessly, I went into problem solving mode, knowing that the outcome would be a good one if I could hang on to my courage and my thinking skills. Do not panic. Easy to say, but there are cars whizzing by at high speeds and I have to time opening the car door carefully.

Earlier in the day I had tried to open the hood of this vehicle to no avail. I didn’t expect to have a problem with the hood release lever, but it didn’t do its only job to release the hood latch. Damn. How can I check the fluid in the transmission if I can’t get the hood open? Simple answer? I can’t.

I wasn’t having any trouble with the car’s transmission at the time, but the fluid leak had me concerned. I wasn’t positive it was the transmission fluid, but it was my best guess. I went ahead with my plans to drive the car. Bad decision, as it turns out.

In some small way it was gratifying to know later that my supposition about the transmission was correct. Having all the fluid leak out was not what I expected. No way.

My main concern at that moment the transmission stopped doing its thing was that my 99 year old mom was alone and expecting me. Oh, sure, Abby was with her. But Abby is a dog. She’s a good dog too, but she can’t make Mom dinner and keep her from wheeling herself out onto the ramp and then right out the gate to the neighborhood sidewalk. Mom’s been known to do this.

The caregiver is good about putting up the little child gate so that Mom can’t go down the ramp, but who knows if she remembered today? Maybe this will be the day that my inventive mother figures out how to remove the barrier. Squashing these thoughts, I scramble for the AAA membership card and dial for road service.

I’ve been taught (by said mother) to be honest in my dealings with others. In this case, it didn’t work out very well. Telling the woman on the phone that I was the member’s daughter wasn’t getting me what I needed. Instead, she wanted my mother, the AAA Club member, to be the one to request the towing service. Oh, this AAA representative would gladly sell me a policy right then and there, in which case they would gladly get the car off the road for me.

Thanks anyway, Lady. Plan B. I dialed again, hoping to get a different rep, and impersonated my mother. Sounding distraught I explained that my daughter was driving my car when it decided it would no longer run. “My daughter is stranded on the freeway. Can you please send someone?”

Honesty is the best policy, but it didn’t get me a tow. My deception got me the tow. And a ride to Mom’s with a very kind and competent tow truck driver.

Today the old Lincoln Continental is sitting in a shop where broken cars get fixed. I’m thinking it will need a whole new tranny. (That’s guy talk for transmission). I’m going to rent a car for a couple days so I can do some errands. AAA got me a discount on the rental car.

I admit I am sick of problem solving. There has been too much of it going on in my world lately.

However, I’ve learned that it’s not what happens to me that ever really matters. Rather, it’s how I deal with what happens to me. In this case, my life’s mission isn’t a failure. It is merely the car’s transmission failure. This too shall pass.