It was 1987 when my mother, Lisa, drove a rusty old Renault Encore that looked more like a relic than a reliable vehicle. It was small, unattractive, and constantly breaking down. I was old enough to feel the embarrassment, often persuading her to drop me off a block away from school so no one would see me get out of that clunker.
With our limited finances, we couldn’t afford a mechanic who would likely have advised her to send that car to the scrapyard. One late night, after wrestling with the car’s numerous issues, Lisa stumbled across an infomercial and decided to order a set of DIY auto mechanic books. She was determined to fix that car herself.
By the end of summer, Lisa had become quite the mechanic. She learned how to change tires and oil, fixed the emergency brake, jumped the car multiple times, and replaced belts, brakes, spark plugs, and even the clutch. By the time fall rolled around, she had saved the Encore from being junked so many times that we started to wonder if anything could truly take it down.
Just before the school year began, Lisa received a call from the university. They wanted to interview her for a temp-secretary position. Landing that job would mean financial relief for us, alleviating worries about food and bills. The university was a 25-minute drive north. Would the Encore make it?
The day before her interview, Lisa practiced typing drills on our electric typewriter and quizzed herself on dictation skills. By the afternoon, our neighbor had lent her an elegant navy dress and beige pumps to help her look professional. The morning of the interview, Lisa rushed us through breakfast and dropped me off at school 45 minutes early, anxious to avoid traffic and worried about her car breaking down.
While I spent my first day at school chatting with friends about summer adventures and boys, I couldn’t help but think about my mom. Later that evening, she recounted her day. Lisa arrived 15 minutes early for her interview and made a positive impression on the HR manager. The interview lasted an hour, and she felt confident answering questions about her experience, future aspirations, and weaknesses—all things she had rehearsed.
After the interview, Lisa returned to the parking lot and was met with a dreadful noise from the Encore: the muffler had fallen off. Without hesitation, she removed her borrowed pumps, grabbed a floor mat from the backseat, and got down on her knees right there in the parking lot. She managed to reattach the muffler just enough to drive home.
The HR manager, who had been leaving the building, spotted Lisa on the ground fixing her car. She approached and asked if she needed assistance. Lisa looked up, smiled, and said, “That’s very kind of you, but I can handle this myself. It just takes some grit and determination.” To my surprise, Lisa was hired on the spot.
A few months later, the Encore finally succumbed to its fate, but from that day on, I was never embarrassed to be dropped off at school again.
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In summary, my mother’s determination and resourcefulness taught me invaluable lessons about tackling challenges alone. Her grit not only saved our car but also shaped my understanding of resilience and self-reliance.