When a call marked “No Caller ID” rang at 10:03 this morning, I almost didn’t answer it. The boys were in the other room, as they have been for the last three days of the teachers’ strike. I was sending emails for the upcoming Guns to Gardens event while simultaneously queuing up a newsletter for a client; I had every reason not to answer the phone, but sometimes, I just answer the phone.
I am a child of the eighties, after all; answering the phone is just what you do when the landline is ringing off the hook and a cell phone is only something Zach Morris had on Saved By the Bell, and besides, that cute boy from second period might try and call.
So, I answered the phone.
AND IT WAS OUR STOLEN CAR.
Technically, our car is an inanimate object and does not have the ability to call me on the phone, but an officer from the city of Oakland did have an ability to call me on the phone and let me know that our car had been recovered.
“It’s not drivable,” he said, “but it has been found.”
A thousand thoughts ran through my head: Jesus rumblings of that which was lost has been found were quickly followed by a quote from Dumb and Dumber: so you’re saying there’s a chance. There’s a chance we’ll suddenly be a two-car family! There’s a chance I’ll find my original lucky red, peep-toed, preacher-lady clogs or Theo will find his new 30” bat! There’s a chance, there’s a chance, there’s a chance…
“How ‘not drivable’ is not drivable?” I asked.
“That I do not know,” he replied, as he was merely relaying the message for the officer who discovered the vehicle. “But if you don’t want it towed to the yard, you need to be there within half an hour to claim it.”
So the boys and I drove 1.5 miles down the road to a part of East Oakland rather well-known for its car-stripping and dumping proclivities. And we found this:
Far from drivable, part of me wondered if it really was our car.
But then I saw it: the telltale key scratches on the left side and the missing protective panel over one of the tires. All four tires were missing, complete with lug nuts lying on the ground, and the front half of the engine, including the catalytic converter and the battery, had been removed. Someone had slapped a new bumper sticker on the front window and the license plates were missing (the back plate replaced with an insert, as if it had just been purchased at a dealership). The key fob didn’t work, for obvious reasons, and someone had been sleeping in the car. None of those missing items were present, at least not that I could see from peering through the windows or the front seats.
Could silver linings even be found in a situation like this?
But they were, because in this case, the silver linings came through the helpers we found along the way.
When Mr. Rogers was a young boy and he saw scary things on the news, his mother would often remind him to “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” Although his advice is often criticized as an outdated and unnecessary consolation meme for grown-ups, sometimes looking for the helpers is the only way to survive.
When I feel like we’re up a creek without a paddle, because insurance isn’t helping us out with any part of coverage for the stolen vehicle, I am comforted by the employees who come out of the business where the car was dumped in front of, just to check on us. Thanks, Lauren.
When I wonder if my boys will be okay, because they saw the whole thing happen, and now they’re seeing the aftermath of it too — and trauma is real, and what does it mean to live in a place filled with equal parts beauty and terror, and still feel seen and heard and dare I say loved by the officer who found the car in the first place? Thank you, Keisha.
And when option after option doesn’t seem to work, because trying to get a not-drivable vehicle to a salvage yard where they’ll buy it off you for $100 proves nearly impossible, but then a friend makes a suggestion, and the suggestion actually works …and the customer service representative on the other end of the phone exudes genuine empathy and the woman on the other end of the tow truck line makes you laugh with delirium at the end of a very long day? Why, thank you, Kristen and Denise.
These are the helpers. And sometimes helpers are what and who I have to see if I’m going to make it through another day.
Our car hasn’t technically been towed yet, but it’s at the top of the list for this morning’s order of business at the delirium-inducing tow truck company.
And I don’t know about you, but I call that hope.1
Or also another perfect chance to channel your inner Jim Carrey. So you’re saying there’s a chance…
Hooray! Love your perspective and tenacious hope.
This actually made me tear up. Eff the haters!! I wanna watch the helpers with wide eyes. 😋