Bad luck, like the Ramans, seems to come in threes.
On Friday, Michelle backed the Pilot into the garage door as
it was still going up, bending the door out of shape and ripping the spoiler
off the top of the tailgate.
Then Tuesday, I limped the truck home from the bus stop,
struggling at each intersection to get it into gear.
Just more expense, I thought, driving home. We’re already
trying to pay off Isaac’s hospital bill from when he was there for 24 hours in
June with pneumonia. And we’ve got Christmas coming up. And a new floor to put
into the kitchen. And a fireplace to fix.
Sunday, after failing to fix either the garage door or the
Pilot, I was pretty depressed. Oh, I got the door back on the rails, but it
took three clicks of the button even to get the door to close, and several
attempts at putting the spoiler back on the Pilot failed. And I know they’re
just things – but my inability to successfully deal with them was frustrating.
Wednesday came, and I had to remind myself that good luck
also comes in threes.
Michelle had the guys from Snake River Overhead Doors come
and fix the door. For free. Who knew there was a company out there that’d do
that kind of thing?
A few dollars’ worth of fluid in the clutch cylinder and the
truck is working just fine.
The spoiler’s still off the Pilot, but two out of three
isn’t all that bad, right? We’ve got our mechanic looking at it, and he thinks
he can get it fixed for us, using the original parts.
So I’m writing this piece hoping to feel that surge of good
luck, good karma – whatever you want to call it – to counterbalance the wave of
depression that settled over me Sunday evening when I was looking at a week of
cold weather, a lot of broken things and not knowing that the truck was going
to add itself to the list.
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