Last week, my car overheated on the way to get the water switched over to our name at our new house. I told you guys all about it, so of course, because you are such loyal and awesome readers, that you remember ever tiny little detail about it. In case your mind is a little fuzzy on the details, or you missed it because you were vacationing somewhere fabulous and fancy, or just because the post was so awesome you want to go back and read it again, here it is.
A few days after all that took place, Hubs and I were driving around in my car because his car doesn’t have air conditioning and it’s 150-million degrees in Kansas City lately (No? Fine, but it’s hot!), it started to get a little hot again.
When we got home, he checked the water levels and they were low again. That means I had a leak. Uh oh.
But he saw a tiny little line that looked like a crack on the radiator and so set to work finding out where to buy one and thinking about getting it replaced right away.
He tracked down the best deal for the fix: buying the radiator from an auto-store and putting it in himself, and set out to get started.
Just a little, but it was enough to make him mad.
I wanted to KNOW that spending the money (unbudgeted, mind you, though we do have an emergency fund) would fix the problem. We just bought a house. I don’t have a full time job. This is not the time to spend money we don’t have to. I needed some assurance that this money and effort (it seemed like an awful lot of work to put that radiator in ourselves!) would not all be for nothing when we found my car was still loosing water somewhere…
Hubs was angry.
He thought this meant I was arguing with him, doubting his wisdom on fixing the car, blocking him from trying to take action to fix a problem for me, for us, as soon as possible.
I didn’t mean to convey all that with my questions, but I guess I did. He didn’t mean to blow up and get so huffy so fast when all I was looking for was some additional reassurance, but it certainly resulted in a negative reaction from both of us as he stormed down the steps to go find some “proof” this “crack” was the culprit.
Oops. Good thing we forgive easily.
So after a few minutes of huffing and sulking and being salty with each other, we set to work. He filled up the radiator with water and squeezed some big hose for a few minutes until, yup, little water bubbles started foaming out of the tiny little line that did, in fact, turn out to be fairly significant crack in a super important part of the car, especially when it’s 100+ degrees outside.
So we bought the radiator and parked under a shade tree in our apartment’s parking lot. And then we worked all evening, about three hours or so, until we got it changed.
I’m allowed to honestly say “we” there because I helped, really.
I promise I did. You can ask him.
I held the light. I struggled to hold back hoses and stuff that were in his way. I even helped put in some little pin thing that holds the hose in place. I found and picked up stuff he dropped down into the mess of parts and stuff that make up the tangled, confusing mess under the hood of the car whenever the little pins were so small and springy that he could barely hold onto them while having to fight to work in the tiny space between the fan and the radiator to get things all hooked back up properly. I took out and put back in the air filter so he’d have about an inch more room to work….you get the idea.
And pretty soon this happened:
We had successfully taken this out:
And put this in its place:
Time to relax and celebrate!
But it was after 9:00 and we hadn’t had dinner, we both needed a shower and we were hot and tired.
So we scrubbed the oil and grease and dirt and stuff off our hands and arms, warmed up some leftovers, and collapsed on our couch for the rest of the night. And by rest of the night, I mean about an hour before we dragged ourselves off to bed.
But in this crazy mess of an afternoon that was supposed to be relaxing (we’d scheduled some QT involving yummy food and FRIENDS on the couch that night), I learned an awesome lesson.
This man that I married never ceases to amaze me or give me more and more reasons to love and respect him. He knows so much about so much and is willing to work hard to do whatever he needs to provide for us. He’s smart and strong and sensible. He’s loving and patient and kind to me when I don’t deserve it. He’s more than I ever imagined he could be when we danced that first dance together in the gym…when I was 15.
I’m nearly 23 now and you know what? I’m more than I ever imagined I could be, too. Funny how life does that to us, huh?
And I’m grateful to love a man I can trust with my heart, my life, my future babies…and my car.