Don’t Sweat What You Can’t Control (Life Lesson #3)

I inched my way up in line to the check-in area, glancing at the seat beside me where my helmet sat, ready. I was excited about the day ahead. It was early May of last year and I had just arrived at Moore Air Field for the Northeast Region Porsche Club’s Autocross School, the first session of the season for newbies like me. I had participated in autocross twice the previous season, in my first exposure to driving the Blue Car through carefully placed cones in configurations with names such as slaloms, Chicago Boxes, and chicanes. I loved my autocross experiences and found it a safe and fun way to get to better know what the Blue Car and I could do together. With two sessions completed, I still wanted some one-on-one instruction to learn the finer points of the sport before venturing through the course on my own. Now it was spring again and I was eager to get on the course and drive.

I was second in line, and had my registration and waiver pulled up on my phone when the car ahead of me pulled through and I was waved forward by check-in. I put my foot on the clutch, started to put the car in first gear, and heard a pop and then a grinding sound.

Uh oh. This isn’t good.

I tried again but the clutch was soft and the car wasn’t going in gear. I pulled back at the first sound of grinding, put on the emergency brake, and shut the car off. I got out, motioned for the car behind to go around me, and pondered my next move.

After a brief discussion with check-in, I got help pushing the Blue Car to the side to avoid blocking the lineup behind me and then I walked to the main area where 50 Porsche owners were preparing their cars for inspection and the start of the day. I was pretty sure I had a snapped clutch cable and wondered if it was fixable on the spot so I headed straight to someone who had an older car and did the work on it himself.

Maybe, just maybe, it will be my lucky day.

We walked back to the car and after a quick inspection, there was agreement it was indeed most likely the clutch cable. But despite the toolboxes and spare parts available across the assortment of registrants that day, this wasn’t something that had a quick fix in the next hour. Someone offered his Boxster so I could participate for the day and as tempting as that was, I thought it was best to get the towing process started, knowing from experience that it could take a while. Besides, you can call me spoiled, but if I was going to do autocross that day, I wanted to drive the Blue Car (all apologies to that generous Boxster owner).

As I called for a tow, I chatted with those waiting at check-in and I laughed about my predicament. When I heard sympathetic murmurs of “that sucks!” I just shrugged and said it could have been worse. I knew I would be back another time after the car was fixed and would do something else with my day.

The tow truck took a while. Check-in was done and everyone was across the field getting into positions. I watched the first group of cars start their runs through the elaborate configuration of cones, and I was deeply disappointed to miss it all, the only instruction day offered for the season. But more than that, I suddenly felt a wave of grateful relief. If the Blue Car was going to break down, it couldn’t have picked a better moment. I had completed a 14,000 mile road trip the previous autumn and instantly thought of a handful of places on that trip where car trouble would have been a dangerous or difficult situation. It was hard not to be grateful that the clutch cable had waited to give way until that moment.

The tow truck finally came, and we headed back toward Boston to my mechanic’s shop where I left the car. I called a friend who picked me up and got me home before noon.

Another day in life with the Blue Car.

I say that as though breakdowns are a common occurrence, but to be fair to the Blue Car (and I am always fair and loyal to the Blue Car), this simple mechanical car with no fancy features, that is lacking in computers and the latest technology, is astoundingly reliable and I have been incredibly fortunate. In the last two years I have put almost 25,000 miles on the Blue Car and the broken clutch cable linkage has been the only mechanical problem that has messed with my plans. But I have had my share of breakdowns over almost four decades of driving older Porsches and these moments have given me a philosophical approach when things don’t go my way.

Back when my late husband and I were dating, he purchased his first Porsche – a 1967 912—and we were both convinced that car was jealous of me. Every time I drove it something happened.

I was on my way to a job interview in the heat of summer, hoping against hope that I still looked polished and cool in my linen suit as I drove the 912 along the Fenway in Boston, when the car stalled at a light and wouldn’t restart. With drivers cursing behind me and cars whizzing by on both sides, I got some help pushing the car to the right lane and then called a tow service. While waiting, I tried repeatedly to start the car to no avail. The car was towed back to Ross’ apartment building and when he got home from work he took the key from me, got in the driver’s seat and it started right up. In addition to feeling a total fool, I missed the job interview, which the company did not reschedule. I hated the 912 at that moment, just as I was sure it hated me.

After we were married, I was driving the Blue Car on the highway in Birmingham, Alabama when the gas pedal dropped to the floor. I coasted to the nearest exit and then got out, pushing the car with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the door stile to get out of the path of traffic with not a single person stopping to help. The Blue Car had picked a bad time for the pedal linkage to break.

Right after a partial restoration of the Blue Car in 2018, I picked up the car and got as far as six blocks from the mechanic when the car died. I was lucky that time; a quick phone call and the mechanic fixed a loose wire on the spot.

In these instances, I have learned that it’s best not to get too upset. I have learned to take a deep breath and calmly ponder the next steps. To not sweat the things I can’t control.

When my car flooded with water after the downpour in the Columbia River Gorge, there really wasn’t much to do but set my shoes somewhere to dry and get to work mopping out the car. In Yellowstone National Park, a defunct rear defroster just meant I needed more time to clear the ice caked on my windows and a little more time to kick myself for not realizing that parking next to Old Faithful for the night, when the October nights were below freezing, was going to invite ice. Lots of it.

I could say there is no point in owning a vehicle like the Blue Car if you can’t go with the flow, if you can’t shrug off the stuff you can’t control. But this isn’t just about the Blue Car and breakdowns. It’s about life. Everything in life is easier if we let go of what we truly can’t change. I watched my late husband deal with mechanical failures, a blown engine, and all kinds of Blue Car quirks with a philosophical shrug and a calm “roll up your sleeves” approach that was very much his way of being in the world. Me? I was the whirling dervish…constantly planning, annoyed when things didn’t go well, impatient. Always wondering, “What if I had done this instead?” or “What if I had done that?”

That attitude of mine was not helpful in any way. It made bad situations worse. Think about that for a moment: who in their right mind wants to make a bad situation worse?

A broken clutch linkage meant I couldn’t participate in autocross school but freaking out about it would have ruined my entire day. Was it really worth it? I don’t think so. I ended up having a great conversation with the friend who gave me a lift home and I got to an evening party on time instead of being hours late. The car was fixed and I made it to the next autocross and had a great time.

Things happen. We sometimes have no control. Pondering the next steps is about facing the situation, recognizing what you can control and what you can’t, and then dealing with it. The lessons imparted by the Blue Car go a long way toward peace, gratitude, and good days. And we all deserve good days. When things don’t go according to plan I like to say that at least it will make a story. It may be funny story or a sad story. Or a frustration story, or a missed autocross story, or a pushing the car off the exit ramp story. But it will still be a story. And as much as I used to think otherwise, we can’t always control every single one of our stories. Trying to do that never ends well. We can only control our reactions to the myriad events that make up our lives. We can only do the best we can at the time.

I graciously and thankfully give the Blue Car some credit for this relaxed attitude of mine. Which it should not, under any circumstances, take as license to have more breakdowns. Blue Car, do you hear me?