The angel with a blue mohawk

Having a vehicle is something I admittedly take for granted sometimes. My first car was a 1994 Ford Explorer, a car as old as I am and riddled with transmission problems. After trying to fix the faulty transmission for the third time, I donated it to a charity that would fix it up and got a 1996 Ford Taurus. 

The Taurus didn’t fare too well either. About a year into owning it, the axle broke. After multiple times repairing that, I squeezed $500 worth of a down payment out of it to purchase a 2015 Smart Fortwo Passion. My Smart car — my rollerskate — was also the first car I named, fittingly called “Einstein.”

Einstein lasted me four years and was by far the most reliable. The only major issue I had was a failing spark plug. On a three-cylinder engine, a spark plug going out is a big deal, rendering it unable to drive until I could fix it.

My Smart car made it up to Georgia, where I zipped all over Houston, Peach, Bibb and Crawford County. Then, we got in a car accident. At the intersection of Houston Lake Road and Watson Boulevard, my husband and I were hit in the back by a distracted driver while we waited at the red light. We survived, but Einstein did not. 

As a small side note, we were leaving church that day, and my Bible was in the trunk. The engine is in the back, and with how hard we were hit, it was a miracle the engine didn’t catch fire. I think it had something to do with the Bible in the back.

After several calls to my insurance company, we secured a rental and, eventually, our current car: a beautiful 2017 Volkswagen Tiguan, which I have named “Jackie.”

My husband and I joke about how she is “unreliable,” but she has never left us completely stranded. Jackie has a bad habit of throwing check engine lights, but when that happens, it’s most likely a burned-out spark plug or a side effect of her unquenchable thirst for oil. 

With the spark plugs acting up, I carry a spare in the car just in case. My husband and I can fix it in a couple of hours and be on our way. 

So, Wednesday morning, we were stuck in that predicament once more. While taking my nephew to work, my check engine light came on. I drove straight home, and my husband hooked up a check engine light reader. The code on screen said our camshaft position sensor was failing. If it fails, the engine won’t start, so I knew we needed to buy a new one immediately.

Amidst this, our battery died and we needed a jump start. When it rains, it pours. That inconvenience took another 20 minutes. 

We drove to the auto parts store to buy the sensor. Strangely enough, the car ran perfectly up to the store, and the check engine light didn’t come on again. Still, we decided to buy another one, just in case we need one.

We heard a knock on our window as soon as we were about to leave and be done with the whole ordeal. My husband rolled it down and was face to face with a man with a blue mohawk.

“Wanted to let you know, you have cord showing on your right side,” the man said.

My husband stepped out of the car and dropped to the ground while the mohawk-wearing man pointed it out for him. I couldn’t hear what was said but could tell my husband was concerned. Once he returned, he filled me in.

“So, our tire is about to blow,” my husband said. “We need to buy another one.”

“Okay, we should be fine until we reach the tire shop,” I replied.

“Actually, we need two,” he said. 

My husband pulled up a picture on his phone. I’m no mechanic, but I can tell a damaged tire when I see one. It looked like the sides were about to pop off of the tire. I knew we wouldn’t get far before it blew, and it was a miracle we made it as far as we did. I drive the interstate daily and could not imagine what could have happened to us if the tire blew on the road.

The closest place to us was Discount Tire, but they wanted to charge an arm and a leg—more like Not-So-Discount Tire.

Instead, we went to Economy Tire of Warner Robins and didn’t pay an arm and leg for our tires. (And it was drive-through style, a plus.)

The engine was still running perfectly. So why the sudden check engine light? It was divine intervention. I’m more diligent about oil changes but don’t always prioritize my tires. I believe the code was a message from God, a reminder to take care of all aspects of my car, not just the engine. 

Then we had the dead battery to deal with. If we didn’t need the jump-start, we would have come to the store 20 minutes earlier and not run into the guy with the mohawk. We later learned he is associated with a tire shop: Byron Tire Pros. Given that he’s on their logo, I think he’s the owner.

I think it’s a situation where all things work together. With a little divine timing, God sent us an angel with a blue mohawk as a clear sign that our tires were unsafe. Special thanks to our unexpected messenger: the man with the mohawk and to Economy Tire for their efficient service. And of course, a big thank you to God. It was a rollercoaster of a morning, but we’re safer on the other side.