Broken Oil Pump

 

 

 

Jan 22, 2020 | The other day my car was being repaired. I had it in the shop for an oil pump problem. I don’t know.  It’s a twenty-two year old Jeep Cherokee with crank windows. Nothing fancy and that’s what I like about it. It was cold that morning so I put on my insulated boots with warm packs placed in each toe like hunters do, bundled up with my fingerless gloves, packed my painting kit, and set out walking around the block. 

  I saw a few people who might have thought I was indigent. I know the look. I’m loaded down like all I have is what I’m carrying. These things are my most valuable possessions. Walkers pass by not saying anything when, if I were dressed nicer and not for painting in the cold, they would probably say hi. I saw some people who recognized me and wandered why I was in the neighborhood. I explain I got married last March and we live around the corner. I’m out looking for something to paint. Things always look different on foot. Nothing is speaking to me yet. 

  Then I come upon a painter friend of mine.  We chat about the things going on in each of our lives and I reach down to pet her three legged dog. We say our goodbyes and as they are walking away I see a painting there.  

  I make a quick mental sketch of her and her companion. I begin setting up.  I turn my AirPods on and begin listening to shuffling music. A car stops and a person is looking for some keys that may or may not have been dropped nearby. No luck.

  A young lady stops with a Polaroid camera and explains she is working on a series of photos depicting the neighborhood.

  Another car stops to drop off a meal on wheels to an older person. 

  Then I get a call from my mechanic who says he’s going to need another day to finish the oil pump job. It’s okay. It’s all okay. 

  It’s been a little over two hours and I’m nearly through.  It’s best not to get too through. I take a phone photo and post it like I always do. It feels good but I am not sure if it’s the painting or the process of seeing; but it does feel good. 

  Then, I’m flooded with another feeling that I am doing what I am supposed to be doing.  All because an oil pump broke and a walk around the block.

 


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