TRUST

Husband's note: Since I only received two sympathy comments to my post yesterday, I'll take another stab at posting today. Not that I am developing a complex (because most of my posts on this blog only get one or two comments) or anything, but it has become somewhat of a joke at our house when I say, "I think I'm going to post on your blog."

My wife seems to be so much more popular than me, and rightfully so. SHE IS AMAZING!!!! But since going to see Wicked last week, she's been singing to me, "I'm going to make you popular." I guess this is the toughest case she's ever faced. I hope she is determined to succeed.

This was originally posted on my old blog on Mon., June 26, 2006 after a minor fender bender in the days when I still drove an old silver Ford Focus before I learned the benefits of driving a Smart Car.

As I was driving down the road on my way to work this morning, the car three-or-four ahead of me had a tire blow out. Not a fun event, one that I also experienced in my nearly 18 mile, 1 hour commute earlier this year.

As a result of the tire blow out, the driver slowed down considerably and steered his car off the road. All of traffic slowed down to about 40 MPH. As the injured car pulled to the side of the freeway, the car behind him slowed down drastically as a result, and the car in front of me slowed down as well - but a bit more swiftly. I, too, slowed down quickly and stopped, but the two cars behind me apparently did not see what was happening and slammed on their brakes.

Knowing I was going to be hit, I released the brakes, steered into the least busy lane and was propelled forward by the impact. The car behind me appeared to be hit as he veered into this lane.

Being a safety-conscious driver - and one who hates stopped traffic blocking lanes - my instinct was to pull off the road to exchange information. I decided that it would be best to pull off at the same location as the man who would soon be fixing his tire. He could serve as a witness, if needed. I guess I should have thought that I may be able to help him, but at this moment, I must have been consumed with the condition of my own car.

The car who hit me pulled off with us. The car that seemed to hit him did not, nor did any of those who saw what happened. It was a nice seemingly new car (or at least a new "used" car). The man shook my hand and said he had a "dealer's car" or had purchased a "dealer's car" or something like that, and it had unreadable dealer tags and no license plate (Red flag #1), and said he was disappointed that the one who hit him didn't stop. His female companion stayed in the car, looking extremely worried. (Red flag #2)

We spoke briefly to the man who was now fixing his tire, a pleasant fellow with his wife, to determine what had happened. Our stories were consistent. We then assessed damage.

His car's bumper was damaged. It was crushed in. It definitely looked worse than mine. My car was not very damaged and my intent was to take to a mechanic to ensure nothing was wrong with the car, leave the scratched and partially-dented bumper and fix the hanging muffler myself (or at least with my father-in-law's help).

I asked the man who hit me for his insurance card and contact information. He said he didn't have it with him, as it was a new car (Red flag #3). I said that I would still like his contact information. He offered to fix the car (Red flag #4)- and that it wasn't a big deal (it probably wasn't, but I of course, wanted to make sure with a mechanic). I declined, saying I'd likely do most of the work myself. But persisted on his asking for his insurance information. He again declined, but said he'd give me his contact details, which he simply wrote and underlined on a piece of paper "my name" as if he'd eventually write his name under it, (Red flag #5) so I said I'd check with my insurance company if a simple exchange of info would suffice. He again tied to re-enforced that he'd "take care of everything." Of course, I already know that my insurance requires a police report. I called my father-in-law to get his opinion on what he would do. He re-enforced that I should file a police report.

So, feeling educated and buoyed up to do what was right, I told this man I wanted to file a report as he didn't have his insurance card. He became belligerent (Red flag #6), and then tried the reasoning of the damned to escape punishment. In a seemingly last-ditch effort to sway me, he asked if I had ever been in an accident before (I had) and why I was being difficult (I said I was only obeying the rules), and that none of us had the time to wait for the police. (Red flag #7, 8 and 9, respectively)

He then said something that will stick with me for a long time:

"DON'T YOU TRUST ME?"

(Big red flag at this point).

I told the man it had nothing to do with trust. I had never met him before, and therefore could not trust or distrust him. Trust is something earned. It is not something that exists inherently until proven otherwise. I thought he was going to hit me, but I simply said, "This is what my insurance requires, and that's how we are going to do it."

I walked back to my car, past the man who was changing his tire, who watched our exchange. I should have stopped to help him. I didn't. I regret that.

Getting back into my car, I called my wife to let her know what had happened (As I should have done earlier). As my wife and I were talking, the man who hit me, got into his car and drove off.

I wonder, did he violate my trust? Was he worthy of my trust? Should I have trusted him? What is trust? Did I now trust him to do the wrong thing? Should I now feel that I have enough information to judge that I cannot trust him?

The police came, received a description from the pleasant man and me of the events and filled out a report. Since it was a hit and run, he suggested that since the damage to my car was minimal, not to file a claim. The pleasant man whose tire started this entire episode gave me his number and left. I need to call and thank him for his kindness to stay after his tire was fixed.

For the man who hit me: Was it worth stopping for? Why did you stop only to lose your own integrity? What was the point? Cars can be fixed. Injuries heal. Time is lost in other pursuits. And overall, the damage was not physical - is was about what is right and wrong. About taking responsibility and being accountable. Reputations are much harder to mend. But the damage to one's self, and the guilt, lasts internally for much longer. Luckily, I have no hard feelings toward this man. It was a simple accident. No damage to my car, nor my feelings, just a nice lesson taught about integrity.

However, for introspection, I would love to ask this man in response:

DO YOU TRUST YOURSELF?

I think I'll ask myself that question frequently as well.

Ten Things I've Learned From Owning a Smart Car

today's post provided by the husband

10. Owning a Smart Car hasn't necessarily made me any smarter, but getting 40 miles to the gallon is very satisfying. I am happy. Does your car get that? Neener-neener-neener...

9. Everyone stares at Smart Cars and the people that are in them. Privacy is a thing of the past. So much for nosepicking in the car - good thing I drive the van a few times a week!

8. Cars ARE fun to drive. They aren't just tools. I can actually come home unstressed from the commute. Now if I could just leave the stress of work at work...

7. People stop laughing once they sit in a Smart Car. But they never stop laughing at someone who is 6'6'' standing by one.

6. People actually still wave, smile and even talk to strangers if they think you have something in common. Either there are a lot of closet Smart Car owners, or adults still collect Hot Wheels. How else could you explain how much I have in common with these people just because I have a cool little teeny-tiny car?

5. Going places now takes extra time as I have to plan to answer the same five questions each time I get in or get out of the car. However, I never have to worry about forgetting where I park in a parking lot. I can simply look for the gathered group of people staring in my car windows.

4. Drivers of big trucks, lowriders and sports cars feel that they have something to prove or are compensating for something...ummm...like gas mileage. They can't stay behind me, even if I am going 80 mph. It is simply amazing how many people have to rev up and speed past me between lights, just for me to pull up next to them. They then make themselves feel better by rolling down their window to ask me if my "car is powered by squirrels."

3. Believe it or not, women are more likely to ask about cars than men. I guess cars are chick magnets. Sorry ladies, I already found the woman of my dreams.

2. Being seen with my lovely wife in our "date car" is awesome. Woot-wooo. What a babe! (The wife, not the car.)

1. "Death trap" is much manlier sounding than "clown car."

The Details

I firmly believe God is in the details of our lives. Elder Neal A. Maxwell talked about this in a conference talk in 1996 and that statement has stuck with me. And I have often looked back on an experience and thought to myself *yes, every detail.*

On Tuesday- one of my true marathon days- I know God was in every detail.

Tuesday was crazy! We woke up, got oldest daughter to school and then took the husband's brand new car in to the dealership to have LoJack installed (so don't even think about trying to swipe his ride- we'll know where you are within 24 hours- they have assured us).

The dealership is about 45 miles from our home- and we were fighting morning rush hour, so it took a good hour and 20 minutes to get there. Little son wanted to ride with the husband in his sweet new blue and silver roller skate, so we loaded up his car seat and the husband stressed about finding something to put behind it because of the velcro it has on the back of little son's car seat. The husband didn't want it pulling at the fabric on his new seat. I must admit, I was a little impatient with this- it seemed pointless to me, not to mention it was holding us up- and I was on a tight schedule that day. He eventually found a yellow rag to put behind the car seat to act as a buffer between the scratchy velcro strip and his new seat.

We pulled onto the freeway and I followed the husband and little son all the way to the dealership. Once the husband got all the keys handed over to the service department, he threw the yellow rag on the floor of the van while I secured little son's car seat in my car and buckled him in. Finally, we were on our way again. This time headed about 25 miles away to the husband's office.

We dropped the husband off at his office and headed home so I could get showered before dropping middle daughter off at preschool, little son at the babysitter's, and myself at oldest daughter's school to help in her classroom. Because I always help on Tuesdays. The husband and I arranged that I would pick him up right after I left oldest daughter's class and picked up middle daughter and little son. And then we would go and get his car, which should be done by then.

As we headed home, I had no idea our exit was closed. Nor do I recall any alerts along the way stating that most important detail. I was a little frustrated as we came upon our exit and there is an orange sign stating that the exit is closed. I had to drive to the next exit. Once I exited, I decided I may as well stop at Sam's Club to pick up promised treats for oldest daughter's class. (she loves the chocolate chip creme sandwich cookies rolled in sprinkles from the bakery. I highly recommend them as well)

We got the cookies, and on the way out we passed by some chicken salad that I just happened to throw in the cart.

We arrived home in time for me to shower, prepare a quick lunch for the kids and run out the door to get to preschool, babysitter's, and volunteering on time.

As the kids were loading in the car, little son determined it was important for him to play with the yellow rag that was on the floor of the van. And he dropped it to the garage floor as I was shutting the door. I left it, and jumped in and we were off.

Oldest daughter's class was in party mode and thoroughly enjoyed the treats I brought. No sooner were we done with the treats than in walks the teacher's husband with ice cream cones for all the kids and a bouquet of flowers for me. Beautiful flowers, might I add.

It just so happened that the Character Assembly was to be held at 1:30 and oldest daughter had been award the Character Award for her classroom, so I was able to attend with the class. It was a lovely assembly. And I was a proud mother.

As soon as the assembly concluded, I went ahead and signed oldest daughter out of school an hour early and we left to retrieve brother, sister and husband. And, of course, we were on a tight schedule because we had to be home in time for oldest daughter's Girl Scout Bridging to Brownie ceremony- which I would have to leave a bit early and head straight to a camp meeting.

I decided to stop by home to put the flowers in water so that they would not die on our long trip to retrieve the husband and his little tikes look-alike car.

After I got the flowers taken care of and headed out to the garage, I noticed the infamous yellow rag was attached to the front drivers side tire. I stooped to pull it off the tire and found a bit of resistance. As I reached my hand to the inside of the tire to detach it, I felt the wire on the tire tread and immediately took that as a bad sign. And the first thing I thought was, "There is no way I am going on a 100 mile freeway trip with my tire in this condition!"

I called the husband and alerted him of the situation and told him to stand by, because I thought I could pick up the other two kids, get the tires changed at Sam's Club and then still make it to his office and to the dealership and back home in time for the ceremony and my meeting.

It turned out (and this is where I am making a long story a little less long) that Sam's Club doesn't carry our particular tires- special order only. So I went over to Wal-Mart- and there is only one guy working with 3 customers waiting and he was no where to be found. Par for Wal-Mart. So I headed to Pep Boys across the street.

I ended up replacing the two front tires and had them do a front-end alignment, called the husband to let him know it would take an hour and a half and would not be able to make it to his office to get him. He got a cab to the dealership to retrieve the date car, and made it home before I did- all in rush hour traffic.

After the mechanic pulled off the tires, he showed me the terrible shape they were in- the tread gone, wires exposed and a couple of gaps- and expressed his surprise that they hadn't already blown. I was in awe. I was thankful for the annoyance of finding a yellow rag to protect a new car's seat, thankful for a son who has to play with everything and thankful for a teacher who gave me a beautiful bouquet of flowers that I had to return home to put in water. If not for these three things, I am positive I would have encountered some catastrophic event on the freeway.

I arrived home after the husband, quickly whipped up brownies for the "Brownie" Ceremony, slapped some chicken salad on bread (being thankful I had thrown it in the cart at Sam's Club earlier that morning), ironed patches on oldest daughter's Daisy Girl Scout tunic, and rushed out the door to make it just on time for the ceremony. After which, I ran to my meeting- arriving just after the opening prayer.

Once I had a chance to breathe that night, I gave thanks to a loving Father in Heaven for watching out for me.

And for caring enough to be in the details of my life.

Yes, every detail.

Broken

Way back in June of '08 the husband ordered a new car. We have only 5 months left until it arrives. And it will look like this:









Not exactly sure what the husband loves about this car. But, he has been loving them since they were conceived. And so our order is in.

The husband has been waiting patiently. And so have the children. And it has been hard for them to wait patiently, because they know that this car promises to be something special. They have named it The Date Car. And they are excited, because when we get it, this is the vehicle we will use for our special one on one dates they so love.

Until The Date Car is delivered, the husband continues to drive the faithful Ford Focus. It looks like this:

Well, it did up until Sunday- sometime during church. And now it looks like this:

It went and got itself broken into. In the church parking lot!

Man, I wish that car were a little more smart and not so focused, then it wouldn't get itself into situations like this.

I think I know why the husband ordered that cute little blue thing with the silver stripe. It's smart. It can probably fight off criminals.

I am going to suggest that he do something like this to it. (you know, to scare off any bad guys)

And for those of you who may be wondering: yes, the husband does fit in this little car. With room to spare. Kind of makes me think of The Incredibles, except the husband isn't quite as filled out as Mr. Incredible nor is he a cartoon.