Total Loss

She was really hoping for a total loss. That’s what my mom said after the mysterious case of the collision with the missing cookie-shopper driver. 

Outside her window, a small silver car fell backwards down a hill, gaining speed until it met the side of my mom’s Lincoln. It wedged itself nicely into the black exterior, giving the axle enough of a push to leave it angry and crooked. While she didn’t catch the action as it unfolded, one man watched it all. From his view, he thought he saw the driver through the windshield, but turns out that was the headrest playing tricks on him. Because this moving vehicle was empty. And no, it wasn’t one of those high-tech driverless smart cars. That would make this story too believable.

After the car had planted itself into my mom’s car, she went outside to investigate. The front seat? Empty. The owner, exiting a nearby cookie shop…well, I should note that this story played a bit of telephone on its way to me, and she might’ve been leaving some other, more boring, establishment. But I heard “cookie shop.” So, that’s what we’re going with.

Anyway, this non-driver exited the shop (I’m imagining with a box of a dozen frosted cookies for some event she was rushing to), and found her parking space vacant. Little did she know, her Toyota had made its way down the hill backwards, racing across the street, thankfully dodging any pedestrians or moving vehicles. 

Even more intriguing than the cookie box that she may or may not have had tucked under her arm, her car keys dangled from her fingers. The keys…things that make it go vroom.

The questions rolled from my tongue. Did she have a push start, so her keys weren’t needed in the ignition? Did she yank the keys from their slot while the car was still in drive? Did she manage to do a tuck, duck, and roll situation from the seat after accidentally bumping the gear into reverse? 

A mystery anyway you slice it. But the conclusion remained the same. My mom’s vehicle was crunched in several spots, and a mindless car was to blame.

The driver arrived at her car that had gone rogue, with a perplexed expression. A little too curious and a little underwhelmed if you ask me, but that’s based on secondhand information. So maybe she was sweating and just had a way of keeping her composure. But I can tell you that if my car decided to drive off and slam into someone else’s, I’d be in full theatrics.

So as the days and weeks passed, the next mystery of whether the car could be repaired unraveled. Messily, as all insurance-related things do. 

My mom was hoping for the news of a total loss. It sounds so backwards. Wouldn’t we want the message of, hey great news, we can fix it! 

It got me thinking. And I reflect and write about this more often than I’ve realized, but I tend to lean toward always wanting a repair. Fix it, mend it, maybe even change it. 

But what if we don’t want that thing back that’s stitched together with mismatched thread or glue that just might hold for a while longer? Maybe there’s something to be said for letting some things just be total losses with a smile on my face. 

I think I might like the challenge of trying to make a bad situation better, but sometimes it’s okay to walk away. If that friend would just stick to her word a little better. If the job could only promote me a time or two. If the husband would just not lie. Make it better.

But I’ve learned that God knows what is meant to be put back together in my life and what’s simply meant to be a total loss. And that doesn’t mean failure. It might just mean new. Like shiny, brand new. The old is trashed, and the new doesn’t come with those old glitches or even the stained history. 

So my mom’s on the market for a new car. And I’m thinking about all the things in my life I’m so glad God didn’t repair when I begged him to.

And maybe that’s just the way the cookie crumbles.