In the summer of 1987, my mother, driving a rust-colored Renault Encore, faced the daily embarrassment of a vehicle that was both small and perpetually on the verge of breaking down. Conscious of our family’s financial struggles, I often insisted she drop me off a block away from school to avoid the shame of being seen in that unreliable car.
With no funds available for a mechanic—who would likely have advised her to junk the car—my mother took matters into her own hands. One evening, after a long night of contemplating the car’s continuous failures, she stumbled upon an infomercial that inspired her to order a series of DIY auto mechanic books. She resolved to learn how to repair the Encore herself.
Over the course of that summer, my mother transformed into a self-taught mechanic. She learned to change tires, perform oil changes, and even fix the emergency brake. She jumped the car several times and replaced belts, brakes, spark plugs, and the clutch. By the time fall approached, she had salvaged the Encore from the brink of disaster so many times that we began to wonder if there was anything that could truly put it down for good.
Just before the new school year began, my mother received a call from the university regarding a temporary secretarial position. Securing this job would alleviate our financial burdens, allowing us to focus less on survival and more on stability. However, there was a lingering question: would the Encore make the journey?
The day prior to her interview, my mother practiced her typing on our electric typewriter and reviewed dictation techniques. A neighbor generously lent her a chic navy dress and beige pumps to help her present a professional appearance. On the morning of the interview, she rushed through our routine and dropped me off at school 45 minutes early, anxious to avoid interstate traffic and potential car trouble. I spent my day at school engaged in trivial conversations with friends, but my mind often wandered back to my mother.
Later that evening, my mother shared the details of her day. She arrived at her interview 15 minutes early and made a positive impression on the HR representative. The interview lasted an hour and seemed to go exceptionally well, with questions covering her experience, future ambitions, and perceived weaknesses—topics she had diligently practiced.
Upon concluding the interview, my mother approached the parking lot, only to be met with the familiar, dreadful noise of the Encore. The muffler had fallen off. Without hesitation, she removed her borrowed pumps, retrieved a floor mat from the backseat, and knelt on the asphalt to reattach the muffler. The HR representative, witnessing this display of determination, approached and offered assistance. My mother, looking up with resolve, replied, “Thank you, that’s very kind. But I can manage this. It just takes a bit of grit and tenacity.” Remarkably, she was hired on the spot.
A few months later, the Encore finally gave out for good. However, my experience of being embarrassed by that car was permanently altered.
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Summary:
This article reflects on the resilience and self-sufficiency demonstrated by my mother in overcoming the challenges posed by her unreliable vehicle. Through her determination to learn and adapt, she not only salvaged the car but also secured a better future for our family.
Keyphrase: Lessons in Self-Sufficiency
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