I thought a lot about this post yesterday. What I was going to write about recovery? Really though...recovery? Who came up with these prompts? And then, BANG! Something happened that suggested needing recovery. Below is my most recent recovery. From shock. Follow me, it could be a bumpy ride.
My husband has had his 1999 Ford Escort for a long, long time. To put it in perspective, the locks and windows were manually powered. That used to be a common feature. Nowadays, there are very, very few super base (no, not Super Bass) models to be found. It has over 150,000 miles on it and has served it's purpose. The alternator has went out a few times, the A/C no longer works, and the tires are quite bare.
See, in Ohio that wouldn't have been an issue. There's no safety check or inspector saying who can have what vehicle on the roads. The initial plan was to run that car into the ground or until the wheels fell off. Surprise, we're moving to Virginia. This new foreign land requires state safety checks once a year. After dealing with getting new plates and a Virginia title for this car, which is a story within itself, the Escort would need a 32-point safety check to keep on keepin' on.
This morning, he went out to look at his car, start it up (it hadn't driven since December 22, since the tags were expired), and clean it out a little. Shortly after, he came back inside, defeated. The cloth ceiling had started falling again, this time more than normal. The outside looked more rusted and the cost of upkeep may turn into more than we bargained for. I hadn't seen this sad look before. Although I've been on the 'new car' team, right then, I knew how much it was hurting to let his baby go. He had a lot of memories with that car, mostly good. Immediately, I jumped into 'let's save the Escort mode' to try to appease his sentimental part. He was pretty set in his ways, thus we just came home with his new car, leaving the Escort behind.
This is where the recovery part comes in. I know it took a long way to make the circle, but here it is. I was in complete shock when I thought he was giving in to the Virginia rules instead of repairing his baby. He'd had that car for what felt like forever and it was more of his family than I was. Letting go of something you've become so comfortable had to be hard, even for an inanimate object.
Right now, I'm (he probably is too) recovering from this shocked feeling. Recovering from a long day at the car dealership, talk of numbers, options, and warranties. Recovering from a whirlwind of purchasing a car. Recovering from the understanding that the Escort was more than just a car. Recovery? That's what we're doing.