The car jerked forward and slowed down; the engine sputtered and then died. I was the middle of the highway, with the next wave of cars speeding right towards me.

~

To travel means to get away. Get away from the reality that we currently live in and experience something new. A new place. Without breaking out into Aladdin’s “A Whole New World,” this is not the kind of travel piece that you’d think of. I’m not going to Aruba, Jamaica nor Kokomo. I won’t be traversing some majestic mountain just as the sun rises over its tallest peak. The destination doesn’t matter, just the journey. This is the chronicle of someone who brings someone to that place. I’m that guy who drives his ex to the airport.

~

The aged 1990 Buick century, with the splattered dirt and rusted hub caps, sat in the driveway after years of sitting inactive. The previous owner, my great grandmother, had passed on, so no one drove it. The inside had become a relic of the time when she was alive. In stark contrast to the outside, the interior of the car was beautiful, almost mint condition. The grey fabric seats, seemingly untouched by time, welcomed anyone to sit down and relax for a while, or even take the car for a spin. The only problem were the rats that had torn up some of the padding inside the vents and scattered it all over the floor. Just a few days ago, the whole thing reeked of dried rat droppings and rat pee; a musty smell that oozed from the vents whenever air blew through them. Originally, I thought I was going to get sick from the residual smell. Despite its age and smell, today it had become my “new” car.

It had been a few weeks since we (my former girlfriend and I) last talked, since everything fell apart. I wasn’t mad at her for going her own way, but I wasn’t too happy with it. So here I am now: climbing in my car to go bring her to the airport. Was I stupid or just too nice for my own good? I don’t know. Why I offered to help her was beyond me.

The car growled as the engine turned over. It was a frosty morning and the windows were completely frozen over. I tried to use my windshield wipers to move some of the ice and water out of my sight, but soon realized that I had no wipers whatsoever. The worn-out plastic scrapped against the glass like nails on a chalk board. Do you know why aquariums say “don’t tap on the glass?” It’s because it’s fucking loud on the inside of it. I didn’t think my ears would ever stop ringing. I threw the car in reverse and backed up onto the grass. I went to put the car into drive and a rattling came from the engine. I drove up and out of the drive way, completely questioning if I was going to make it home.

Besides the whole car shaking when I came to a stop, the musty smell somewhat masked by my “new car scent” air freshener, and the lack thereof heat in the car, it ran well. That being said, any car that can get me from point A to point B runs “well” to my standards. I got to campus with little difficulty. I waited anxiously for her to come out and meet me. It was 8:02 AM and I had a class at 9:25. It takes about a half hour to get to Bradley airport, so I thought I had plenty of time to make it there and back.

My heart dropped when I saw her. Like the feeling of There was nothing wrong with her nor anything odd about her appearance. She wore her usual baggy hoody and black leggings with some fuzzy animal socks that she had bought from Bath & Body Works. There was nothing special about the outfit, but it’s one of my favorites on her. It was just seeing her again after so long that took me off guard. I bet she still thought she was fat and ugly, but anyone with eyes could see how gorgeous she was. Immediately, I took her bags and piled them into the back of my car. In the short time of leaving the car running idle, I saw that my “service engine soon” light had come on. Great. Nothing that turning the car off and on won’t fix. Just like that, the light disappeared. But my problems were nowhere near over.

Honestly, I remember how much tension was in the car (it almost took over the stale smell emanating from the vents) from not having talked since we broke up. It wasn’t something you could smell as much as feel. The car had warmed up, yet the air laid still against my goose-bumped skin. There was silence in the car; the low rumble of the engine trying to run was the only audible thing around. My own nerves were getting to me. What’s the right thing to say to someone who recently broke your heart?

She broke the silence: “The car looks nice. I’m getting a weird smell though.”

Small talk it is then.

“Thanks, I just cleaned the whole interior out yesterday. The smell is probably just something in the vent mixing with the air freshener” I replied.

With that short dialogue, we were back to awkward silence.

This car hadn’t driven on the highway in nearly seven years. To say that this was going to be a rough trip was an understatement. I had only driven this car once before today. My dad had forewarned me that it could possibly stall when I come to a complete stop. But that chance was “once in a blue moon.” As I floored the accelerator, I felt the car jerk forward a little bit as it tried to shift gears. With reluctance, the gears shifted and the car went progressed faster. It wasn’t going from 35 MPH to 0 that was a problem, but from 70 to 30. The engine slowed down, like trying to drive with a glued belt. It sounded like the whole thing locked up even when I had the acceleration just about to the floor. Not exactly something you want to happen while you’re in morning traffic. Suddenly, the car jolted forward a few times, like the tires were driving through sand unable to grip anything, and the car picked up pace again.

“Are you sure the car will make it there” She teased.

“I’ll make sure you get there” I said. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to get her there.

The rest of the trip there went smoothly. I dropped her off without too much hassle. She said thanks and good bye then shut the door. Without her, the tension was lifted and my nerves were quelled for the time being. Now I needed to get back to school for 9:25 and it was already 8:45.

The traffic going back was sparse, giving me plenty of room to floor the acceleration and burn out all of the gunk leftover in the tank. I ended up hitting 75 MPH when my speedometer only went up to 80. As traffic picked up going back into Hartford, I had to slow down. Then, as if by some magic, I’m stuck in some congested traffic out of nowhere. Bumper to bumper traffic. Probably some accident up ahead causing everyone to merge. As the traffic let up a bit, I got back up to speed and moved to the right lane to go into my exit. I went from 65 MPH to nothing in a few seconds, after I realized that everyone in my exit was barely moving. Fortunately, I was the last in line. Unfortunately, that’s when the car called it quits.

The car jerked forward and slowed down; the engine sputtered and then died. I’m was in the middle of my lane with the next wave of cars speeding towards me. The cars in front of me had already moved on, so I was stuck in the middle of the lane, completely stalled. In a panic I threw the car into park and tried to remember the steps my dad told me to do in this situation. I turned it back on and tried to put it in drive, but to no avail. The car jolted forward a few feet and then died again, but at least I was halfway in the breakdown lane now.

The first two cars zoomed around me, seeming to barely miss hitting the car. The clock read 9:15 AM. I considered not even trying to go to class. I’d rather be able to go home than to get stuck here trying to rush to class.

I turned the car off and on and threw the gear into neutral. I revved the engine and dropped it into drive. The car again jolted forward, bringing me closer to the side of the highway but the engine died again. An orange highway truck, the kind that are supposed to stop and help stranded people, honked at me as I struggled to get my car going. My car was skewed halfway in the highway and halfway in the breakdown lane. In my blind panic, I didn’t notice the long line of cars forming behind me. They all started to pass and go around me simultaneously honking their horns at me. On my third try, I dropped it into neutral and slowly revved the acceleration. After dropping it into drive again the car started to move.

I made it back to school with little trouble. The car stalled again on the final exit I took. But other than that, I made it with a minute to spare. What I learned is that some people are just born lucky with some things and not so lucky with others. Clearly, cars aren’t my thing.

“A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find that after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us.” --John Steinbeck