FollowIf you’ve ever had to leave your car at the mechanic, you know that feeling. The hopeful anticipation of getting your wheels back, the freedom restored, life returning to normal. Well, that was me this morning, buzzing with the excitement of finally collecting my car after a whole week.
My relatively new baby (just two months old!) was in the car repair shop because an Indonesian man crashed his pickup truck into my car bumper. I was ready to be reunited.
So Close, Yet So Far
I arrived at the workshop, spotted my car, and did a quick visual sweep. It looked good from a distance. But then, I got closer. And there it was. A scratch, a dent—right on top of the bumper—glaring back at me, completely untouched.
My heart sank. A whole week, and it’s not even finished?
I pointed it out to the mechanic, who was apologetic. He explained it was an oversight and that he would get it fixed, but I couldn’t take the car today. It would need another full day.
The disappointment was real. It’s “just a car,” but when it’s your new car and you’ve been managing without one for seven long days, it feels like a much bigger deal. The inconvenience of coordinating rides, missing the simple ease of popping out… it all came rushing back.
But what choice did I have? If I want my car returned to its pristine, unscratched glory, I have to wait. So, I took a deep breath, nodded, and said, “Okay, tomorrow then.” It is what it is.
A Distraction and The Uncomfortable Ask
To shake off the frustration, my husband and I decided to go for a nearby breakfast. After breakfast, we made a trip to NSK for grocery shopping, turning the unexpected free time into a productive errand run.
Once home, it was time for the next uncomfortable step: the money talk. I quickly whipped out my phone, snapped a pic of the car repair bill, and WhatsApped it to the Indonesian man who had caused the damage.
The response was… expected. He said he could only pay on Sunday.
I’ll be honest, a part of me is nervous. Will he actually pay? My rational mind tries to soothe my worries: his wife manages a fruit stall I go to regularly, so it’s unlikely he’ll just vanish. But still, that little voice of doubt is there. I’m praying he keeps his word.
The Waiting Game Continues
So here I am, still car-less. The countdown has reset to 24 hours until I (hopefully) get my car back. And then, another countdown begins—the one until Sunday, when I’ll find out if trust and a familiar fruit stall are enough of a guarantee.
This whole experience is a test of patience. Patience with delays, patience with people, and patience with situations that are simply out of my control. For now, all I can do is wait. And maybe plan my next trip to the fruit stall for Sunday, just in case.
Have you ever been in a similar situation? That mix of frustration and hoping someone comes through?
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