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One summer Sunday afternoon in 2019, my husband — a 50-year-old attorney who typically dons a suit and tie — found himself sprawled on the sun-baked pavement of a gas station, just like I was on the other side of our Honda Fit. We were both trying to identify the source of a strange flapping noise coming from beneath the car.
“It looks like the screws might have come loose,” my husband, Mark, remarked, pointing at a large shield that dangled precariously between the front tires. It was somewhat reassuring to get a glimpse of the problem, especially since neither of us had much automotive knowledge. I dared to hope that we wouldn’t end up stranded in the remote reaches of Michigan, and that we could still make it to the wedding we were heading to.
We were already racing against the clock. Mark’s childhood friend, Tom, was tying the knot with a woman from the Dominican Republic, where Tom owned a bar, even though he primarily resided in Nashville. There had been no formal invitation; instead, Tom had called a month or two earlier, inviting us to a vineyard outside Traverse City, about four hours away, on this June Sunday. The exact time of the ceremony was uncertain until just before we departed. “It’s either four or four-thirty,” Tom told Mark. “I’ll double-check.”
Mark and I exchanged amused yet bewildered glances. Our own wedding, nearly 16 years earlier, had taken place in an Ann Arbor movie theater, where we showed “When Harry Met Sally” as a pre-ceremony option. After nearly a decade of dating — including years spent apart for my graduate studies — we were continually evolving as individuals. I often wondered if those periods apart had contributed to our resilience as a couple. Now, when we faced frustrations, our mindset had shifted from “Can I live with this?” to “I am living with this. How do we overcome it?”
My car seemed to echo our sentiments, as the undercarriage resumed its rhythmic knocking once we got back on the highway. I finally voiced what we were both thinking, “You know, this trip might be doomed.” In addition to the car trouble, Mark had lost his wallet just two days prior, rendering him unable to drive or pay for anything without my help. We had also started later than planned, struggling to get our two daughters to their grandmother’s house, which was conveniently located half an hour in the opposite direction. To make matters worse, two hours into our journey, Mark suddenly declared, “Crap. I don’t have anything to wear to the wedding.” His pressed shirt, jacket, and tie were still hanging on the doorknob at home.
As Mark vented his frustrations, a shopping mall appeared ahead, prompting me to take the exit. “These shirts are awful!” he exclaimed, rummaging through the racks at the American Eagle store. “I’ll look ridiculous. None of these are even my size! We’re going to waste $80 on an ugly shirt I’ll never wear again.”
Yet, moments later, I couldn’t help but smile as I handed over my credit card for a $37 patterned blue button-down that, while a bit snug, would do just fine with the khakis he was already wearing. “This mall stop was actually perfect timing,” I said, pleased with how I had addressed one of our issues. Mark remained grumpy, leaving me to bask in my own sense of accomplishment.
I’ll admit, it was easier for me to maintain a positive attitude because I had both my wallet and the clothes I packed. More importantly, I was just a “plus one” in this wedding adventure. However, I had also been yearning to feel competent and capable again. Ever since my unexpected layoff from my long-time job as an arts reporter — a role that had become integral to my identity — I had struggled to find my footing in the professional world. Despite a stream of freelance work providing some income, it was Mark’s demanding legal career that kept us afloat financially. This harsh reality often weighed heavily on my self-esteem.
As we rushed to make the wedding, we stopped at a fast-food drive-thru for lunch and quickly picked up last-minute wedding gifts: locally made liquors presented in a white plastic bag from Walmart. “Who are we, Kid Rock?” I joked. After arriving at our roadside motel at 3:45 p.m., we changed clothes and drove up the hill to Steve’s 4:00 wedding — arriving at precisely 3:59. The day had been a complete rollercoaster.
Yet despite everything, I couldn’t stop smiling. Why? As Mark Manson states in “The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck,” “Happiness comes from solving problems.” He’s right; we can’t expect to live problem-free lives (a futile wish). Instead, true contentment comes from feeling equipped to tackle whatever challenges come our way.
In the aftermath of my layoff, I had often felt like a burden in our marriage — like a washed-up, unproductive woman. But on this chaotic day in June 2019, I managed to conquer the obstacles we faced. I even got us to the wedding on time, against all odds. Sometimes, weathering a tough day together is what makes you feel most connected and alive.
As we caught our breath in two white folding chairs on that windy hill, we watched the bride arrive in a golf cart and held hands, pondering the meaning of the couple’s vows spoken entirely in Spanish.
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Summary:
In this reflective piece, the author shares a tumultuous car trip that unexpectedly strengthens her marriage. Despite a series of mishaps, including car troubles and wardrobe malfunctions, the couple learns to navigate their challenges together, ultimately finding joy and connection in the chaos. The journey serves as a reminder that overcoming difficulties can enhance bonds and foster personal growth.
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