Last night, I experienced something that was not entirely new, exactly. There had been one evening that was, in some cases, eerily similar to it. But the thing was, I had been little more than a kid that last time, and had felt overwhelmed by everything going on in my life then.
What happened?
Well, I was driving a car that overheated. And both times, it happened right in the middle of a drive that normally would have taken less than an hour. Maybe it would normally take just under an hour both back in 1992, and usually under an hour now, in 2023.
On each of those two nights, more than 30 years apart, the drive wound up taking well over four hours, requiring me to continually stop and allow the car to cool off enough for the drive to continue.
Of course, there are differences between the two nights. In the first one, I was actually probably more prepared for the overheating, since I had been a bit used to it with that car, an Eagle Medallion, which had a history of overheating. This time, I was also driving a car with a history of overheating. It is a 2012 Toyota Corolla, and throughout most of last year, the temperature gauge quite frequently showed wild fluctuations with the temperature gauge. That's the thing, though: it had not actually, really overheated, so much as just seemed to do so, according to the needle on the temperature gauge.
Unfortunately, it was not just the needle of the temperature gauge this time around last night. I had assumed at first - wrongly, as it turns out - that it probably was this same old problem. It was still aggravating, since I literally spent thousands of dollars on fixing that same problem. But the temperature gauge did not keep wavering back and forth. Instead, it pretty much kept climbing up and up, higher and higher and closer to the Red H on top, indicating emergency hot temperatures. Much like what happened over 30 years ago, on a fairly similar night.
There were differences between the two nights, of course. The first time, I was just a dumb kid, one who was, I can admit it now, going through depression. That event certainly did not help. But I was nervous and felt overwhelmed by the situation which I found myself in. I got some help once or twice, but rarely felt as alone as I felt on that night. When I got home, my father was waiting, and he was in his best yelling mode, angry and unable to contain it, which was a real problem back then. Needless to say, that did not help me feel any better about what had happened.
It is strange what happens with memories over time. That night - it was probably sometimes in October of 1992 - seemed to last almost forever in some ways. I drove past farms in the daylight portion of the drive, and also past just tons of political posters, including Clinton/Gore. At that point, I had grown up under 12 years of Republican rule in the White House, and could not remember it ever having been different. But Clinton was winning the election, and it was late. Most people seemed to think that he more or less had the race in the bag. I was cautiously optimistic, but a part of me was almost sure that somehow, this would get screwed up just before election night, and that Bush would win another term. Naively, I hoped that if Clinton did get in, things would change for the better. I look at that younger version of myself, and it feels like he was an entirely different person at times. Sometimes, it feels like he is still very close, and those times not so long ago. Other times, all of that feels very far away, almost completely irrelevant.
Now, I was going through it at a much older age, and under vast different circumstances. Back then, I was coming from Sussex County to Passaic County, or West Milford, specifically. This time, it was from Butler, New Jersey (where my ex and our son live) to Hillsborough, New Jersey. Long drives in both cases, admittedly. And like in 1992, I rejoiced a little more internally each time there were real indications that I was nearing home.
This time, instead of an angry father - who only recently passed away last spring - waiting for me, I had a concerned girlfriend who heated up some food and coffee for me, and told me to relax, softly reminding me that the ordeal was now over, and I was indeed home. Very different reception.
Again, different circumstances. Very different. Back in the autumn of 1992, I was still a teenage kid, just months removed from high school, and had nothing in the way of a job or girlfriend or anything, much less a son. There was much more going for me in my life than I realized, but being in the bubble of a depression, I was not seeing it. And if there was one night that might have symbolized - at least in my own head - just how bad and desperate I felt at the time, that was it.
Things are very different now. One major difference was that this time, I kept remembering that first night and rather struck by the similarities. Yet, I did so with a very different frame of mind, my focal point continually returning to being grateful for my life's blessings. I thought of both my son and my girlfriend, and how they each were on different ends of this particular trip. Both of them are relatively healthy and happy, and both add some strong value to my life. The rest of my family also has decent health, as do I, for the most part. Also, I work two jobs and am relatively stable financially, despite the seemingly recurring uncertainties revolving around issues with cars. So yeah, these days, if there is one thing that I have learned, it is to at least try and remember to feel grateful for the blessings in life. That certainly helps to keep one humble, I think.
It almost feels like a tale of two nights, Very similar in many respects. Yet also different. Very different.
Still, both were defined by feeling long and frustrating and cold, no doubt. Back in October of 1992, I remember that it felt chilly. Yesterday, it certainly could have been colder than it was, given the fact that it is late January in New Jersey. Yet, by continually going outside and standing over the hood, then returning to a car turned off and unheated, I began to feel quite cold. Even when I drove and was cranking the hot air - generally something that you are supposed to do when a car overheats - all that was blowing in was cold air, which of course, might have been part of the problem. And admittedly, the ordeal of last night felt a little too reminiscent of that awful night, some thirty years and change ago.
