Car care, Cor!

In which our Hero misquotes some Vulcan philosophy, because the “The gear in the other’s trunk is the gear in your own. You are he.”

My phone rang the other day. My father let me know that Mouse’s father had lost a close friend and was driving to New England that night to pay his respects. Except his car was old and he didn’t feel comfortable taking it on a long drive so he was going to rent a car.

That’s where my dad stopped talking. That’s where my hackles went up. Because technically, we have two cars. And one of the mostly holds down the garage. And this is close family. Do I have an obligation to offer my shiny new car up for a long-distance road trip I don’t even get to be on?

(dammit)

I don’t think, I told my dad, there’s a way for me to not offer my car.

“I can’t come up with one,” he replied.

Well, then offer.

“I’ll let him know. Call you back.” My dad hung up.

A separate calculus works this way. The Mouse is the oldest daughter of my father’s youngest sibling. All of the affection I heap on Mouse and Moonbeam is an echo of how much my dad tries to take care of his baby sister. Frankly, I think if my dad had two cars, the conversation would be a non-starter, he’d offer his.

Except he and my mom are older. The van is easier for them to get in and out of. And as much as he’d want to help his sister, I can’t see him making my mom suffer for it, so he can’t do that. My dad can’t do this thing that he wants to do.

So me, I’ve got my dad who wants to do something but can’t for his sister, one of my favourite aunts, and I have the ability to help him help her. How do I say no to that?

Hollywood thought it was a little strange. But it’s family. Not really the option I want to go with, on the other hand, it really is just sitting there. It’s already fueled and insured. I’ve only filled it up once since I got it, and the tank still reads full.

But it’s my car, and it’s not the same as loaning someone a screwdriver. It’s my car. It’s my shiny new car that I’ve only had for three months and now someone else is going to put more miles on it than I would have in the next 3 months.

It took a lot for me to offer. But it felt like the right thing to do.

Knowing that I’m doing the right thing does not really improve my unhappiness with some situations. I really prefer when I volunteer out of generosity, as opposed to out of sense of inevitable obligation. And frankly, I got the ideal outcome, where I did offer, but didn’t ultimately have to do anything.

I was grumpy about it, sure, but this is family. Either you treat family different or you treat them the same as everybody else. (And I don’t fault the people who treat them the same, it may even mean you treat them better than other folks because then you’re actually more likely to always be polite.)

I’m not weird.

Honest.

(I think.)