I had a lot of time to think as I sat in the dark, waiting for the tow truck. I certainly wasn’t clinically depressed, but I was feeling low, and in a mental state that allowed for focused reflection. It was my third coolant issue in as many months, and the most severe. While wondering when the tow truck would arrive and preparing myself for worst case scenarios (blown head gasket, seized engine, car shopping), I was wrestling with the whys and wherefores of my predicament.
Three months ago, I got a call at work from my wife — “Your car left a green puddle in the garage this morning.” After work, finding a similar puddle in my parking spot, I drove straight to the service station with an eye on the temperature gauge. I only made it about halfway before the needle started rising out of the normal range; I pulled over to cool down and weigh my options. When the woman whose house I was parked next to came home, I sheepishly inquired whether she might be able to help me. Turns out she had some coolant which she graciously gave me, allowing me to travel safely to the new radiator I apparently needed.