Gears, Grit, and Guardian Angels

 

Friday afternoon, and I’m leaving work—heart already halfway home, mind ticking through my to-do list. I shift gears. Something doesn’t feel right. It’s not a scream, not a snap, but more a whisper: pay attention.

Of course, it’s laughed off. “Probably just the mat catching the clutch,” they say. “Happens to everyone.” And, as women often do, I second-guess myself. I shrug it off. What do I know, right?

Fast forward to Saturday morning. The car won’t move. No clutch. Nothing. Just that heavy, mechanical silence that says: You were right.

A few conversations later, a friend nods knowingly. My son-in-law crawls underneath, tools in hand. The verdict is clear: this isn’t a quick fix. It’s a costly repair.

But instead of falling apart, I find myself strangely at peace. Why? Because it happened here. Not on the long road to the Karoo. Not on a mountain pass. Not somewhere far with no signal and no help. It happened in the safety of my daughter’s garden, with coffee nearby and people who care.

We are being protected. I feel it again and again—those soft hands of grace, those angels riding shotgun. We will face bumps, breakdowns, and bruised egos on this road, but we’re not walking it alone.

And this time, I’m walking away with more than a bill. I’m walking away with a lesson: I need to know more about my car and caravan. Not just the romantic part of the journey—but the grit and grease too. It’s time I learned what to check, when to worry, and how to speak up when something doesn’t feel right.

No more brushing off warning signs because someone else says “it’s nothing.” No more handing over all the responsibility for the things that carry me through this life. I don’t need to become a mechanic, but I do need to become the guardian of my own wheels.

Thank goodness for good friends. And for family—even the ones that came by marriage and stayed by choice.

Life, it seems, knows when to pull you over gently before something snaps.

Did something here speak to you?

Leave a comment if you feel moved, or simply sit with me in quiet.

If you’d like to walk this road with me, follow Nomadic Grandmother for new stories.

— x Elsabe