Buddhist Catholic Contemplative Evangelical General Christian Hindu Jewish Latter-day Saint Muslim New Visions Progressive Christian

Beliefs

Topics

Columnists

Resource Library

Research Tools

Video

Podcasts

Thought Readers

Faith In Media Tracker

Newsletters

Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In Subscription Support

Follow Patheos

Home
Catholic
Home and Religion
In the Terrible Heat of an Appalachian Summer

In the Terrible Heat of an Appalachian Summer

Last updated on: June 3, 2023 at 1:07 pm by Mary Pezzulo

0 Comments

In the Terrible Heat of an Appalachian Summer 2023-06-03T13:07:06-04:00 Mary Pezzulo

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

It was one of those days where the air is poison.

The grass had started to go brown and itchy. The herbs in the front yard planters were falling over. When I went out in the late morning to check on both gardens, it felt like I was wading through a swamp– hard to breathe, hard stand up, hard to move forward.

The only thing summer is good for is swimming, or finding a forest where you can hike under a cool canopy. But the local pool wasn’t open yet, and we couldn’t get anywhere else with Serendipity still on the fritz. I resolved to stay cloistered in the house until the heat broke.

The first time there was a knock at the door, hot air billowed into the house as I opened it. It felt like the devil himself was on the doorstep, but it was only Jimmy and his son. His son smiled impishly at me, hoping to be invited in to see the guinea pig. Jimmy said he was walking by on his way to the market, and dropped in to tell me he was trying to rebuild our alternator. The Lost Girl’s family had swindled me by doctoring up the car with a 26-year-old dead junkyard alternator from a different kind of Nissan, but one that would have physically fit in my car if they’d known what they were doing. They’d stuffed it in all wrong, smashing the radiator gooseneck and nearly breaking the pumps. The spare parts company on Ebay had sold Jimmy a functional alternator that was the wrong one for my car and wouldn’t go on the bracket. He’d ordered us a third alternator that will be in Monday, Wednesday at the latest. In the meanwhile he was seeing if he could take the working machinery out of the new alternator and stuff it in the outer casing of the ancient one, so we’d have a convenient spare part.

“Are you sure the car will run once you put the alternator in?” I pleaded.

“I’m sure. Well, 90% sure. When I started it before, everything worked but the gas pedal!” he reminded me. The new throttle body had made the gas pedal work again; it was just that the alternator wasn’t powering the battery. There could be new surprises, but he doubted it.

I thanked him, and reminded him that I desperately wanted to get to Columbus in the mid-month, and said goodbye.

The next time Jimmy knocked, he was alone. His son was zipping back and forth on a scooter on the sidewalk. He showed me a display of motor mounts on his cracked phone as the hot air simmered all around us. He’d been dissecting and examining my entire engine so there wouldn’t be any surprises on Monday or Wednesday. That was how he found the motor mounts weren’t a little dry rotted, they were broken. They had been moved improperly when whoever put in my salvaged motor tried to put it in. I could still drive the car, maybe for months, even on the freeway, as long as he used the torque strap, but we’d need the mounts soon as. He could get them for eighty dollars, and he asked for a hundred for labor. I promised him we’d get it to him somehow. I asked if I could still get to Columbus in the mid-month, and he said I surely could with that torque strap. I said goodbye.

The third time, his son wasn’t there at all. The cool of the day was setting in, so the air barely hurt as I opened. He handed me an oily, greasy thing that looked like a bolt but wasn’t. It was a sparkplug. “You need four of these. See the tip?” he said.

I listened numbly as he explained what the tip of a spark plug was supposed to look like, and how these had been killed, and where I could grab four of them in town for twenty dollars.

I went inside, and made the mistake of googling “oil on spark plugs.” I read about blown head gaskets and remembered when the Lost Girl told me I had been bone dry of oil and coolant. Just when I’d decided that Serendipity was a lost cause, I looked outside and saw the sun was low. It was finally cool enough to go water my patch at the community garden.

I filled six water jugs at the sink, and put them in our grocery cart. I dragged them down the uneven sidewalk, past Jimmy’s house to the corner. As I dragged them by, his son zipped up on the scooter and introduced me to his friend, who was also on a scooter. She looked concerned; she told me they had running water at their house and I could have some if I wanted.

Jimmy opened the hood of Serendipity, revealing an engine that was taken apart and not yet re-assembled. I felt like I was watching a family member’s autopsy. He narrated the horror story for the hundredth time: how the car dealership in Pittsburgh had sold me a Nissan with some undisclosed junkyard salvage parts, and the only real problem was the motor mounts and the rotting wiring harness. How the wiring harness had gotten worse and worse, falling apart under the heat shield, making the sensors act up and the sparkplugs misfire. How eventually, it had killed the alternator the week before Christmas and brought the car to a dramatic halt. The motor mounts were cracked but the rest of the car was good. The brakes and exhaust were fine, the Lost Girl had lied about those. The junkyard motor was actually exceptional. It would be fine once he put it back together.

“I didn’t blow a head gasket?” I blurted out.

No, certainly not. He’d stood there listening to the engine, taking out the sensors one by one and putting it in. If I’d blown a head gasket there would have been a knock, water or smoke from the tailpipe, overheating, foamy oil. There was none of that.

“Then why were the fluids low? And why was there oil all over the engine?”

Sometimes when the wiring is messing up the sensors, they tell the computer that the car is too hot. I probably ran down the oil and antifreeze that way. And the Lost Girl’s relative who topped off my oil instead of changing it had poured the oil all over the engine like pancake syrup. He had a spray that would clean it off. We would keep an eye on the fluids after I was driving again. He’d give us our regular oil changes for just twenty dollars.

I admitted that I was terrified over this and frantic to get to Columbus, and he reiterated that he was sure I could make it.

I promised him he’d be our regular mechanic for any maintenance forever.

In the terrible cold of a polar blast, I’d been informed my car wouldn’t run again. Now, in the terrible heat of an Appalachian summer, it was coming back to life. Slowly and in the most annoying way possible, but we were almost there.

I went to water the garden.

When I came back, it was dark and wonderfully cool.

Michael wanted to be picked up from Kroger a mile away, so Adrienne and I got in the borrowed car with the angry grinding brakes and warm air conditioning. We got all the way to Kroger just as it was closing. There was Michael, coming out. There were the clerks, locking the door for the night.

The borrowed car gave an agonized groan, and wouldn’t roll another inch.

The brakes had finally given up the ghost. One rotor was broken clean off.

Michael and Adrienne walked the groceries home, while I waited for the tow truck in the merciful cool of a summer evening.

We are grounded for a few days. The alternator for our proper car will be here Monday, Wednesday at the latest.

I’m not all right yet, but I will be soon.

Mary Pezzulo is the author of Meditations on the Way of the Cross, The Sorrows an d Joys of Mary, and Stumbling into Grace: How We Meet God in Tiny Works of Mercy

Steel Magnificat operates almost entirely on tips. To tip the author, visit our donate page.

Home and Religion

Previous Post

June 1, 2023

Meet Me Where I Am

Next Post

June 3, 2023 What Kind of a Family is the Church?

Recent Comments

0 | Leave a Comment

"You're talking about supercessionism, the idea that Christians "replace" the covenant that the Jewish people ..."

Alex

Yes, the Old Testament is About ..."

"Oh I'm sure it did."

Mary

A Televised Execution is a Moral, ..."

"For what its worth, it seems like the whole thing originated from Pete Hegsith speaking ..."

Evil-Striker

A Televised Execution is a Moral, ..."

"You may be right. A war and its aftermath are different than day-to-day governance. Still, ..."

Mary

On Traditionalist Bullies, and the Death ..."

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category abortion Abuse Advent America American Christianity angel angels Annunciation Appalachia apparition apparition chaser apparition chasers apparition culture art art review babies baby baby Jesus Bad Lip Reading bad statue contest bath beauty Bible story blog blogkeeping blood book review Brandon Sanderson breastfeeding bus Catholic catholic conspiracy alarmism Catholic Oppositional Disorder Charismatic Renewal Charlie the Cat chastity Christ Christian idenitity Christianity and Judaism Chronic Illness clean clothing COD piece comedy compassion conscience conspiracy theory conversion cop-on-black violence Crucifixion cry of the poor culture Daesh Daily Saints death death penalty devotional diaconate diaper diapers dirty disability Donald Trump Dorothy Day dream drugs Eastern Catholicism Eastern Christianity education election election update Elsewhere on Patheos empathy environment Fear feminism film review fish flashback fluffy buns food Franciscan University of Steubenville Friendship Room fun Gabriel gardening gospel hair-splitting Heaven hell heresy Hillary Clinton history Holly the Witch Holy Spirit holy war Homeschooling homosexuality horror human dignity humor Icon idol immigrants infection inter-religious dialogue Interpretation of Scripture Islam Jesus Jihad Joseph joy laity and lay vocations lamb dinner laundry lent lgbtq literature love manners Mary Medicine and Science Meditation mercy mess milk misogyny Missouri monasticism monster motherhood mourn with those mourn movies movis music mystery nature neurodiversity New Pro-Life Movement news nonsense nostalgia O antiphons obituary objectification Ohio Valley Ordinary Time ordination Ordo Amoris parable paradox Passover peanut butter personal beliefs pets philosophy Planet Charismatic poetry politics polls poop Pope Francis Pope Leo power in the Church prayer prayer request prayers preferential option for non-violence president presidential election priest primary private revelation pro-life prophecy Public face of Catholicism Pure Flix Q and A race racism random rape rape. sexuality reader's request Reckoners refugee religious trauma ressurrection Right to life Saints saints and celebrations same-sex same-sex marriage satire scandal secular feasts seder Seven Joys Seven Last Words sex sexual ethics sexuality silencing six months skid row slavery social justice Speculative fiction spiritual abuse spoon stain story suffering suffrage suffragette Sunday Gospel temple Tenebrae Responsories Terror the exorcist The Friendship Room The New Pro-Life Movement Things I Learned on the Internet tin cup traffic true story tv review Uncategorized USCCB vice and temptation violence Virtue virtue and vice war Way of the Cross whimsy whole life women's ordination work of mercy Year A

Select a Month October 2026 September 2026 August 2026 July 2026 June 2026 May 2026 April 2026 March 2026 February 2026 January 2026 December 2025 November 2025 October 2025 September 2025 August 2025 July 2025 June 2025 May 2025 April 2025 March 2025 February 2025 January 2025 December 2024 November 2024 October 2024 September 2024 August 2024 July 2024 June 2024 May 2024 April 2024 March 2024 February 2024 January 2024 December 2023 November 2023 October 2023 September 2023 August 2023 July 2023 June 2023 May 2023 April 2023 March 2023 February 2023 January 2023 December 2022 November 2022 October 2022 September 2022 August 2022 July 2022 June 2022 May 2022 April 2022 March 2022 February 2022 January 2022 December 2021 November 2021 October 2021 September 2021 August 2021 July 2021 June 2021 May 2021 April 2021 March 2021 February 2021 January 2021 December 2020 November 2020 October 2020 September 2020 August 2020 July 2020 June 2020 May 2020 April 2020 March 2020 February 2020 January 2020 December 2019 November 2019 October 2019 September 2019 August 2019 July 2019 June 2019 May 2019 April 2019 March 2019 February 2019 January 2019 December 2018 November 2018 October 2018 September 2018 August 2018 July 2018 June 2018 May 2018 April 2018 March 2018 February 2018 January 2018 December 2017 November 2017 October 2017 September 2017 August 2017 July 2017 June 2017 May 2017 April 2017 March 2017 February 2017 January 2017 December 2016 November 2016 October 2016 September 2016 August 2016 July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 April 2016 March 2016

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

Comfort, comfort my people! Prepare the way in the wilderness for the Lord. Whose voice cries out this message?

Select your answer to see how you score.

Jeremiah Isaiah John the Baptist Jesus