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I sit here writing this blog in Dublin as an unexpected family situation summoned me home. As a result, Dorrit has had a quiet few weeks. Despite that, I had already made the decision to wrap up ‘The Adventures of Rob and Dorrit (The Toyota Echo)" a few months ago for a variety of reasons.

Firstly, I began blogging about owning a rather unassuming Toyota Echo in Vancouver as a personal challenge. I wanted to see if I could keep writing about the car for twelve months and I have achieved that goal. Generating content regularly is much harder than people assume and I wanted to know that I could do it. The second reason I have decided to retire this blog series is related to the content. I quickly realized that by focusing only on the car was slightly limiting and there are various other topics I would like to write about and explore. I have a few rough ideas that I plan to cement over the next few weeks. Finally, I want to reach a wider audience and I have been advised to look at Substack (https://substack.com/).

So this is not an ending, rather a new beginning. I will be creating an account and begin uploading as 2023 progresses and I have no doubt that Dorrit may well feature in my new content in some shape or form.

But to conclude this blog series, I would like to reflect on what I am taking away from the last year with Dorrit.

Having lived in Vancouver for over a decade, I survived quiet well without a vehicle. Yes, I moan at the drop of a hat about the buses and Skytrains, but in all honesty, the services are very good. Given the cost of car ownership in metro Vancouver too, a car is not a necessity like it would be in say Dublin. However, I can reaffirm with 100% certainty that cars are my first love and the simple act of driving brings me a sense of both peace and excitement that nothing else does. It is a man-machine connection that is gradually being eroded as cars become mobile computer platforms. Dorrit, for example, needs time to warm up and I have learnt that the car makes a regular clicking sound when it is fully up to temperature. I think it is the fan micro switch, but I could be wrong. Being unfamiliar with older automatic gearboxes, I have also learnt that Dorrit is rather quick off the mark, far quicker than I would have imagined. At higher speeds though, the gearbox needs more coaxing to change down that goes against my habit of trying to be mechanically sympathetic with the car. Learning these quirks has been a joy over the last year and is what I love most about driving!

More importantly, I have enjoyed the sense of freedom that Dorrit has given me. The time saving alone has had a huge impact on my daily life. I used to be a bit of a car snob and I would judge a person’s wealth and status by looking at the car they drive. I myself would often dream of having an exotic motor like an BMW or Porsche to show the world and social media that I had finally ‘arrived’ but owning Dorrit has taught me that it really doesn’t matter what the car is as long as it goes. This is only reinforced by the unpainted hood/bonnet that reminds me of this lesson every time I clap eyes on the car.

The last take away for me is the biggest. Dorrit taught me to face my fears in big and small ways. If I was in Vancouver right now, I know I would be outside brushing the snow and ice off the car. I used to worry about what the neighbours would think of me doing this. It is a waste of time at this time of year as it will no doubt snow again. Yet, it gave me a lot of pleasure to do this and see the results of my effort by having Dorrit clean and ice-free (even if only for a few hours). Additionally, I had to overcome my fear of finding car parking in the city and adopting a generally more assertive driving style. Ultimately, my fondest memories over the last year were when I was driving the car when I didn’t have to. When I could have gotten a bus or train instead. This has been the biggest lesson as I had to choose to drive and remember why I love it so much. It made me feel like a man and gave me a huge sense of satisfaction because it is so important to me.

With all that being said, Dorrit is not going anywhere and although I will not be blogging about her regularly, a new year brings a whole new set of driving adventures that I am eager to embrace.

To wrap up, I would like to say huge thank you to everyone who has read these blogs over the last year and I wish you all a happy 2023.

This month I did something stupid that I have never done before. I locked myself out of Dorrit on my way into class on a cold and damp Thursday morning. I could make excuses, like I if the car had an alarm and central locking I would have needed the keys to lock it. But in reality, it was all my own fault. I drove out to Surrey as usual on Thursday morning which is a thirty-minute drive on the highway. I got to the school early so I parked up and took my keys out of the ignition and put them on the passenger seat and proceeded to look at my phone to pass the time. As the clock turned 9:45 am I got out of the car with my bag, phone and wallet and locked the driver’s side door using the door switch as I always do. Just as it clunked shut, my heart sank. I searched my pockets for my keys knowing I wouldn’t find them. I walked around the car, there they were sitting on the passenger seat where I had left them. My keys; the car’s key, a safe deposit box key and my house key.

Rather than losing it and getting angry, all I could do was curse under my breath and let out a sigh. I walked around the car checking each door to see if I could magically open them. I even considered breaking a window to get in. The ironic thing is Dorrit is not that secure, even when fully locked. I have no doubt that even a moderately talented car thief could open the door in under thirty seconds. Lacking the necessary skill, all I could do was walk into the school and calmly explain the situation to my boss. I would have to journey back home after class to get the spare keys to open the car. There were only two problems. The journey back on transit would take 90 minutes each way and I couldn’t call home to see if my landlady was home as she is a very nice Chinese woman called ‘Betty’ who does not speak English. I greet her and we say ‘hi’ to each other. But that is the extent of our conversations. I deal with her son, who is a fluent English speaker and was out of town for a month.

I was less than focused teaching that morning as I knew they next few hours would be messy. The thought of being on a train for hours was less than appealing. To my surprise, my boss offered me his keys and said I could take his car and drive back home. His car is a F25 BMW X3. Under normal circumstances, I would have jumped at the chance to get my arse into a BMW, but I was unsure. Having very little time to consider my options, I took his key and thanked him uttering a prayer to myself as I approached the vehicle.

I had never driven an X3 before and it was certainly bigger than Dorrit, with a much higher seating position. Thankfully, the controls and dash layout was familiar to me as this car was a F- generation product very similar to my parent’s cars. I had spent a lot of time in my father’s F13 6-series over the summer and it operated in a very similar manner, right down to the electronic handbrake button. As I pressed the ignition button, the car sprung to life, with the familiar beeping and bonging as I put the weirdly shaped automatic gear selector into reverse and released the electronic brake. The size was immediately obvious. Whereas Dad's car was low and long, this X3 was much higher. It did have the parking sensors and rear reversing camera, which was a massive help. I have often scoffed at these aids saying that if you can’t reverse your own car, you have no business driving it. I was quickly reconsidering that opinion. After slowly getting out of the car park and onto the road one thing that I immediately loved was the larger wing mirrors that offered an excellent field of vision. Cruising onto the highway, the appeal of the higher driving position also became apparent. I could see more on the road and felt very safe in this unfamiliar vehicle. In typical BMW fashion, the car felt rock solid on the road with slower steering feedback and an unstressed 2.8 litre turbo engine. At the 100km speed limit, I was barely scratching its performance limits. I was totally loving this experience. A childish part of me felt like I was in a 'man’s' car and it reminded me of how I felt as a child in my father’s various E30 3-series cars. I also appreciated the X-Drive 4-wheel drive system this X3 had. As a BMW purist, I have never been a massive advocate of this layout as it goes against BMWs traditional rear-wheel drive layout. However, living in Canada, with annual rain and snow storms, I now see the appeal. I was enjoying myself, feeling more assured and aggressive on the road. Arriving at my house, I parked the car and crossed my fingers that ‘Betty’ was home.

Modern technology came to my aid for the second time that morning in the form of Google translate. I type out “I’m locked out. Can you let me into my suite please?” in Chinese. I rang the doorbell and waited with baited breath. Silence. I didn’t panic. I went and sat in the X3 to wait for her to arrive home. I said another prayer asking that it be soon. It gave me time to look around the car’s interior now that it was safe to do so. People have criticized BMW for having very similar interiors in all their cars, regardless of price and size and this interior was very much 3-series based. It was a higher spec compared to Mum’s F30 320d, but had an almost identical layout. I understand the complaint and would probably share the sentiment had I spend my own money. The other side of that coin is that if you have driven any modern BMW, you will feel at home in all their cars and they have larger, more expensive cars further up the range to keep you coming back.

I was so busy looking around, considering how I would spec such a car that I nearly didn’t notice ‘Betty’ walking up the street. I jumped out of the BMW and she looked surprised to see me. This was a big step up from Dorrit. I hoped she didn’t assume I was doing very well for myself and suddenly raise my rent! I showed her my phone with the translated text and thankfully she understood my predicament. She let me in the main entrance and opened the laundry room door for me to get into my suite. I had a spare house and car key hidden away and quickly collected both and put them in my pocket. Feeling a mix of stress and relief, I decided to boil my kettle and make a cup of tea before hitting the road again. I texted my boss to let him know all was well and that I would be back in Surrey soon. The drive back was uneventful, but parking was a bit of a challenge and it took me a few attempts to get the X3 parked tightly into its allotted space. Dorrit was there waiting. I used the spare car key to open the car and grabbed my keys. I gave my boss back his key and offered him cash for gas, which he refused. Getting back into Dorrit felt instantly familiar and the smaller size made it easier to maneuver around. Honestly, I was just happy to be able to drive the car home and been able to deal with the problem calmly and quickly.

I have vowed to be more careful about where I put my keys from now on.

Vancouver weather is similar to Ireland’s in that it is usually wet as the city is located in a natural rainforest. Locals jokingly call it ‘Raincover’, but I wasn’t laughing last week when Dorrit and I got to spend three and a half hours in crawling traffic as a sudden storm battered the city with high winds and torrential rain.

9:30 am - I teach a morning class out in Surrey once a week and it is a brief thirty-minute drive on the Trans-Canadian Highway (Highway 1). Last week, I headed off as usual and the weather appeared dry and pleasant enough. Sure, there was a nip in the air and it has been getting darker progressively sooner, as we are now well into fall. I got to the school and all was still dry and calm.

12:05pm - After I was finished I jumped into Dorrit and began to head home taking my usual route. To be fair, Google Maps did highlight a delay along the Port Mann bridge of twenty minutes. I could have found a longer route home, but I impatiently started driving away figuring twenty minutes wasn’t that long. I regretted that decision as soon as I came onto the highway. There was a massive tailback and I had no choice but to merge with it as I couldn’t turn around.

1:05pm - The twenty minutes quickly turned into sixty minutes. Thankfully, I had used the toilet before setting off but I was frustrated, hungry and hot after sitting in crawling traffic for so long. I could hear Dorrit’s fan come on at regular intervals to cool the idling engine. Had she not been a Toyota, I would have been worried about overheating and being left stranded on the side of the road. Dorrit doesn’t have any sort of ‘Stop/Start’ technology. I had half a tank of gas and hadn’t been too concerned about it until I found myself sitting in this traffic. I tried turning off the engine and started it again when the traffic began to move and this proved to be even more frustrating. The traffic was crawling slowly, but it was moving and stopping and starting the car constantly could do more harm than good in terms of fuel economy and mechanical wear. All I could do was sit and stew. I remembered that famous scene in ‘King Lear’ where the elderly king ranges at the storm and how it was an exercise in futility.

2:40pm - After two and a half hours I finally reached the epicenter of the tailback. The highway was closed at the junction at Brunette Avenue. TOTALLY CLOSED. Not a single lane was open and this extreme tailback suddenly made sense. The cause turned out to be fallen electricity lines on the road. A storm had been raging in Vancouver all morning apparently. It had drizzled over the last two hours on the highway, but I could see dark storm clouds on the horizon in Vancouver. Traffic was directed off the road and Google tried to put me onto the Lougheed Highway, which by now was also highlighted in red. I didn’t have the time, patience or fuel to sit in more traffic. I had to get the car home and take the train downtown for my evening class which was due to start at 4:30pm. I decided to be brave and hit the suburbs of Burnaby, the city in between Surrey and Vancouver.

3:00pm - I was making good time through Burnaby and following Google Maps for dear life as I had no idea where I was going. I knew the direction I should be heading but the rain was now pouring down. I had the fan on full and the wipers on their top speed. The female navigation voice coming from my phone was drowned out by the rain drenching Dorrit. I was so focused on just getting home that I didn’t really have time to be too worried about the various pedestrians running around, both on the sidewalks and across the busy roads to escape the heavy rain. Rain terrifies me for that very reason. People do stupid things and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stop suddenly on these wet roads as Dorrit doesn’t have ABS. Drivers in Vancouver also never seem to slow down. It’s crazy. In Ireland, I was taught to reduce speed when it rains, but here people drive at the same speed as when the roads are dry. To not actually cause an accident, I forced myself to keep pace with everyone else.

3:15pm – I was finally on Kingsway, which is a familiar road. I turn off onto Victoria Drive and I know home is a mere five minutes away. I was starving and now needed a toilet. I got to my front door as the rain began to ease. It has just gone 3:20 pm and I have a few minutes to eat and pee before I had to brave the weather again and catch a train downtown. Dorrit had about a quarter tank of gas left and I was grateful to the car for getting me home safe and sound. The storm raged on for the rest of the day and I was walking home in the rain at around 7:30 pm that night.

I have never been in such a bad traffic jam in my life. The M50 tailbacks back home had nothing on the delay I endured. The funny thing is if I had gotten a bus and train home from Surrey I would have missed out on the whole adventure and it also showed me that I have finally begun to settle into driving in Canada. Sitting in Dorrit for that length of time got me accustomed to the sounds and feel of the car in the wet too and that is valuable education as we head into winter.

I just hope the snow holds off for the next few months.

Dorrit and I arrived in Surrey early as I needed time to unpack and set up all my equipment in a back room in the school. The class I was teaching flew by as I was slightly distracted trying to anticipate questions that Allan might ask me. I know there are no right answers as such, but I wanted to sound intelligent and clear in my responses. All Allan had said to me in his email was that it would be an informal conversation but that could mean anything. I ate, changed and waited for 1pm PST (9pm Irish time) for Allan to log on.

The first thing I noticed when we connected was a PlayStation 5 on a shelf in his office. He really was a gamer! We spent about ten minutes before recording talking about games and how fast the PS5 is with its build-in SSD (Solid State Drive). I knew I would like this guy. Unlike other podcasts, this one very much focused on mental health rather than stuttering or writing my book. It was a nice change of subject that allowed me to revisit aspects of the book I hadn't spoken about in a while. He specifically asked me about how I coped in my teenage years with my speech and sexuality. I told him that I avoided life and stated that it was far safer to play videogames and watch sci-fi television than face the outside world. I was very proud of the fact that I could describe the starship Enterprise deck by deck, but I knew that knowledge was hardly going to help me navigate adult life. He asked me about my perspective on suicide and that was definitely more uncomfortable. It was my rock bottom point and that feeling of despair is something I would not wish on anyone. I have learnt to make my peace with it, but it still lingers in the quieter recesses of my mind. I don’t want to make it sound like the conversation was all doom and gloom though. There were lighter points around coming out later in life, my first crush and how the experience of writing my book had ultimately brought me closer to my family and father in particular. We talked for over an hour and a half and I was ready for a cup of tea when we stopped recording.

I had never done a podcast in the afternoon before, and certainly not in between teaching classes. I had to quickly pack up Dorrit and drive home to make my evening class in the downtown school. As I drove back into Vancouver, I could feel the post-podcast high kick in. Driving on the highway was actually rather relaxing. This was in stark contrast to when I started driving a year ago. Reflecting on the podcast, having the correct equipment and a car to transport it in helped make the whole experience feel easy. Being more relaxed and confident in my own responses also felt easier than in the past. Allan was pretty cool too and I hope to collaborate with him again in the future. Finally, getting home in record without having to carry bags on public transport was the icing on the cake. Walking into my house, bags in hand, I looked back at this little Toyota. Dorrit was not flashy or fast, rather unassuming and dependable. I find it reassuring that this is car that is helping me share my story and help others dealing with similar circumstances. That is one of the best feeling the world.

The Podcast I recorded was ‘Straight Talking Mental Health with Allan and Aisling:

Podcast Link on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/episode/1pLfva6EnPkV65oCMqEIOQ?si=ddede3be04b84967

Episode Link: https://stmhpodcast.com/2022/09/19/105-stuttering-coming-out-robert-obrien/

YouTube: https://youtu.be/Zs9pPMHN62E

Twitter link: https://twitter.com/stmhpodcast

Inspiration is a funny thing in that it can come from the most unexpected places. During my trip home to Ireland last month, my friend Sue proved to be the source of this inspiration for me. Sue and I met over two decades ago and she became known as the girl I let sleep on my bedroom floor rather than offering her my bed when she was forced to crash in my parent’s house. I was young and admittedly stupid and I have never lived it down. Sue reminded me of this very fact as I was touring her new home, with its lovely well-furnished bedrooms. I hadn’t seen her in about seven years and the last time we spent time together, she had just bought her first house and met a new man. Now, she was about to get married to the same man (who is tall, dark and handsome (with a hint of grey) and they have already created a great life together. Sue seemed happier and more content than I had ever known her to be and this really did inspire me.

In contrast, I had spent years working hard trying to fix myself and the idea of deserving is still something I wrestle with to this day. Deserving that good job, deserving that nice boyfriend, deserving to be at ease in my own skin. The list goes on. Yet, I could see in my friend that she had struggled with this and come out the other side a happy soon-to-be-married human. Sue told me to sit down and make a list of things I wanted. With a cup of tea in hand, I began to write. The obvious PlayStation 5 and Porsche 991.2 Touring (in racing yellow) occupied the top spots on my list. As I continued to jot down notes, being at ease with myself, a rewarding career and a romantic relationship appeared. Feeling suitably inspired, I turned on two dormant dating apps I had on my phone. I decided that looking for a romantic relationship was the easiest place to start. I had played the field in Vancouver years ago, I might as well see what Ireland had to offer. Not much as it would turn out, I didn’t even manage to score a coffee date, but I did try to stay open and optimistic. Faith, Sue assured me was vital on this journey. My optimism remained as I landed in Vancouver and was messaged the very next morning by a guy called ‘Jake’. We texted back and forth for the next 24 hours, which in itself was a result, then ‘Jake’ suggested we meet up the next day. It felt a little fast but meeting face-to-face is the best way to see if there are any sparks and I wasn’t getting any younger.

The weather in Vancouver was roasting as summer was in full swing. Thankfully Rory had collected me from the airport in Dorrit and I had the car sitting outside the house on the day of my date. Dorrit has air conditioning and the car was the coolest place I had access to. I hadn’t had time to wash her and she was filthy. Under Rory’s watchful eye, a pigeon had taken a shine to Dorrit and proceeded to poop all over her. I drove to my coffee date but hide the car around the corner. A dirty car would be a red flag for me and I didn’t want ‘Jake’ to assume I was a lazy owner. Best foot forward and all that. We met and he was nice and very self-assured. He had just moved to Vancouver from Toronto and was checking out the dating scene himself. He was a professional and obviously well off. He worked long hours and loved what he did. He was a big personality, possibly bigger than I would like to live with on a daily basis. I had to give him credit though because like Sue, he seemed to be very comfortable in his own skin and he knew exactly what he wanted from life. That turned out not to be me. After an hour, we parted ways and I drove home in the comfort of a cool car cabin. I sent him a thank you text and said if he wanted to hang out again that I would be game. His response was short and honest. He enjoyed our conversation but didn’t think it was a match. I won’t lie, I did feel a little bruised. Not so much at his response but rather the fact that I had felt excited to go on a date only to be almost instantly disappointed. Part of me wanted to delete the dating apps straight away and stay alone on the shelf. But, that was not what I wanted.

What I didn’t want to do was to wallow in self-pity. Coach Nina rang me and asked how it went and I told her the whole story. (Coach Nina is a very important person in my life who originally gave me Dorrit. See previous blogs to learn more). She was having trouble with a flat tyre and I saw this as an opportunity to go and help a friend in need. She suggested I could wash Dorrit at her place and we could kill two birds with one stone. That is exactly what we did. Nina’s building had a washing bay with high-pressure hoses. Dorrit was washed and dried within thirty minutes. I even got to vacuum and wipe down the interior. That feeling of driving a clean car is wonderful and I was starting to feel less bruised. It felt great to be of service and help Nina deal with her tyre. I knew she was worried about driving on it and she wanted someone to come with her in case anything happened. She drove cautiously to the gas station two blocks away and we were both stumped standing dumb founded at the air pump. They operate very differently in Canada compared to Ireland. They do not have a pressure gauge, rather a ruler-like measure that pops out of the base of the hose attachment that shows the current pressure. I had never seen anything like it and would never have figured it out myself if I had I been forced to deal with it alone. Eventually, we succeeded in getting air into the tyre and I collected Dorrit and drove home. Reflecting on the day, I was feeling better. I had taken action in creating a new relationship, cleaned my dirty car and had been a good friend.

I proudly told Amy (Amy is another close friend in Vancouver) all this news over dinner and she laughed in my face. She asked if my little Grinch heart had started to beat again. Humour aside, I had to tell her that it had and I think that is a good thing. She asked to see a photo of ‘Jake’ and I gave her my phone. She said he looked handsome but that his smile wasn’t a real smile. A real smile? What does that mean I asked her. She said he seemed to be putting on a smile because there were no laughter lines. I would like to think I am a good judge of people and photos but hearing this and after having gone on a date with him, I could see she had a point. To that end, I have promised to have her screen any possible husbands before we make it to the coffee shop.

Amy wasn’t wrong about my Grinch heart. I have become jaded and syndical over the last few years. I know with Covid and everything else, many people are in the same boat. I enjoy being surly to a certain extend. Being the cynical one has an appealing edginess to it, while at the same time keeps people from getting too close. The annoying thing is that it seems things only begin to change for the better when you actually let people in. I have heard all that before and even tried to let people in and be more ‘happy’ and easy going. I can see that this is all a choice and a state of mind and thankfully, I am still inspired to try and see where it all leads me.

A huge thank you this month to Sue for being my muse.
Thanks to Rory for keeping Dorrit safe.
Thanks to Nina and Amy for putting up with me! I know it is not easy.
Thanks to 'Jake' for the coffee and a nice conversation.

Mere weeks after getting Dorrit back on the road, she was due for her first service under my ownership. It was ‘only’ a regularly scheduled oil service. Still, that did not put me at ease. It is like going to the shop for some milk and coming home with a car full of groceries or worse, going to the doctor for a regular check up and coming home with cancer. I knew the car was in good condition, but how would I know if it had a cracked cylinder head or some other catastrophically expensive repair bill.

I booked the car into my local garage and waited for the mechanic to call. Thankfully the car was in good shape, needing only oil and new wipers. I asked them to re-align the headlights as the car had been effectively cross-eyed since the right headlight unit was replaced after the accident damage. I was told the battery was weak and would need changing at some point and I left the car on its winter tires rather than buying summer tires. I will change to all-season tires when the time comes. The final bill came to an affordable $200. Having the car has been a great freedom as I have stated many times in this blog before, but I wasn’t driving every day and I did wonder if it was all worth it.

Over the same week, I was due to attend two day-long Zoom conferences. One was a mental health conference on the Friday and the second was a global 24-hour stuttering conference on Saturday, which I was presenting at. The stuttering conference didn’t finish until 11:25pm (PST) and I had been sitting looking at a screen for two days straight. It was late and I was starving. I hadn’t gone shopping and as a rule, I do not order food as I know it will become a bad habit. My stomach was not agreeing with me growling away. I was still hyper after the conferences and knew I probably wouldn’t just drop off to sleep. I looked at my key rack and saw Dorrit’s key. F**k it I thought to myself. I can work it off in the gym tomorrow. I jumped into the car, drove to the closest pizza takeaway and was back home with food and a cup of tea in my hand within fifteen minutes and before the clock struck midnight. The freedom and ease in that moment was more than worth the $200 oil service.

Having a car also means people may need you to collect them from time to time. Such a request came from my friend Amy who was getting an MRI in Vancouver General Hospital. She was told to get someone to collect her as she was having a medical procedure and would be in no condition to get herself home, even by taxi or Uber. Now Amy and I have a funny friendship. Like other people I have written about (Nina, Rob and Darla) Amy is yet another Landmark friend. I met her on the first day of the Landmark Forum, our first course. We were two clueless eejits sitting beside each other and we decided to go to lunch together. We had an hour and a half for lunch but we got confused and thought we were late after only 45 minutes. I was in panic mode sprinting away from Amy. I didn’t want to get into trouble or look bad getting back to the course late. Amy just laughed and walked slowly behind me. I got back to the Landmark centre sweating and panting when I realized the room was empty and we still had 45 minutes left for lunch. Amy arrived five minutes after me cool and calm still laughing at me for leaving her behind! That incident was to define our friendship and I know there is a lesson in there somewhere for me to learn. I’ll be honest, it annoys the crap out of me. Where I am high strung and dramatic, she seems to be calm and takes things in her stride.

The MRI proved this point. If I was getting a routine scan for arthritis, I would be catastrophizing cancer and an imminent painful death. Not Amy. When I went to pick her up at 9:30pm, I was expecting her to be drugged off her face, but she was pretty steady. They had only given her a mild sedative and she was more than happy to get into Dorrit and be driven away. I joked with her that she was risking her life as it was a pissing rain and pitch black outside. I had worked out possible routes home before collecting her, but I still relied on Google Maps. I was more than grateful for the new wipers and headlight alignment as I could see the road ahead. It was now 10pm so the roads were not crazy busy as we drove further into downtown Vancouver. I was surprised when I got Amy to her door within only fifteen minutes! She was home safe and it felt great to be able to get her there quickly and dry. I got myself home in less than ten minutes too. I couldn’t believe how quickly the whole journey had taken. I had done it all within an hour. Walking and talking public transport would have taken at least twice as long and we would have been soaked.

I have gotten so used to not driving here in Canada that this time saving came as a revelation too me. I’m sure I felt the same way back in Dublin when I was let loose on the roads in my first car, a bright orange classic Mini City. I used to feel embarrassed driving that car as I looked like a young Mr. Bean! I was in a hurry to graduate to a bigger more adult vehicle and I would measure my self-worth against that car. A rather dangerous and short sighted way of thinking as there is always someone with a better car. I don’t feel that way now and in many ways Dorrit is the perfect car for me. She is a typical ‘granny’ car and could pass as an abandoned vehicle when dirty. None of that matters and the fact that I no longer feel the need to compete with every car I see brings a lot of freedom and ease. Which allows me to travel quickly around Vancouver and help my friends. That is certainly worth a $200 oil service.

Next Month: Sparky: The Other Vehicle.

NOTE: This blog entry is a direct continuation from last month's 'Dead Stop Dorrit'

When I think of the term 'big gun' the image of the USS DEFIANT (NX-74205) comes to mind. As any geek worth his or her salt knows, the Defiant is a starship featured on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine from the third season onwards and it is the Federations first dedicated warship. It is small with a crew of fifty, a massively over-powered warp engine and shield grid with a pair of pulse phasers strapped to either side of the hull. My cousin Dean and I as teenage boys nearly lost our minds the first time we saw it fire those weapons in anger. (See the image below). In short, you mess with this ship, at best you get hurt, at worst, you die. When I referred to my friend Darla as a big gun, I do envisage her as being Defiant-like in the sense that she works in car insurance and is VERY good at what she does. So good in fact, that I felt slightly bad for poor Ethan as he was going to be her first target!

Like most of my social circle I met Darla a few years back on the Landmark Team Management and Leadership Program. We spent two years going through the training together and because she lives outside of British Columbia she had the good fortune to stay on my couch whenever she needed a place to crash. We bonded over long chats and cups of tea and I have told her that there must be some Irish blood in her as we share a similar (dirty) sense of humour. Even after the training finished, we have kept in touch having a weekly call together. When she heard about Dorrit’s woes she asked me why I had not reached out to her. Part of me didn’t think to ask her as she lives in another province and another part of me thought it would be easier to stay quiet and smile. As I discovered in last month's blog, it wasn’t. It was eating me up and so I told her the whole story. She listened patiently to the convoluted events and said finally that the car should have been assessed regardless of what Ethan said. She asked for his number and told me that I had to have her assigned to my claim so she could deal with it directly. The wheels were in motion.

Dorrit, for her part, was repaired and the unpainted bonnet looked ok. In direct sunlight, you could see it was unpainted but the car was road legal again. I went for a short drive and noticed a stone chip in the windshield. After less than a week of being repaired, I couldn’t believe it. Was this car cursed? From my own insurance research, I knew that stone chips were covered on my policy as long as they could be sealed. Without telling Darla I jumped into action, afraid that the stone chip would become a crack that would definitely mean getting a new windshield and ANOTHER insurance claim. I booked the appointment to have the chip sealed first thing that Saturday morning and after dealing with Ethan, I was going into this situation with my own phasers and shields fully powered up. I was not going to be taken for a fool again. The guy at the shop looked at the chip and said it probably wouldn’t seal. I insisted he at least try. I was standing around for about fifty minutes before Dorrit appeared again with the stone chip sealed. There was a mark but one I could live with. The paperwork was processed and I drove home feeling very proud of myself.

Darla did talk to Ethan and she described it as a battle. He was apparently trying to tell her how to do her job! This was all done over the phone and I wondered how it would have been had they met face-to-face! I felt better hearing that though as it wasn’t necessarily just a case of me being naïve and foolish. Ethan could play me as an inexperienced punter, but not Darla. As Ethan never processed Dorrit’s assessment there was very little paperwork to deal with. Darla told me to upload all the photos and receipts I had to the online claims website. She was going to talk to ICBC on my behalf and felt confident that I would get some money back. A week passed and I got an email from an insurance representative stating that ICBC would reimburse me. Unfortunately, they wouldn’t pay to paint the bonnet as that would mean dismantling the whole front end again and they only pay for such repairs once. Darla and myself mused at the idea of going after Ethan to paint the bonnet but it would be rather more difficult. Ultimately, I was no longer out of pocket and could live with the end result.

Money aside, I had taken action and asked for help. In the grand scheme of things that was a more important result. Even after everything, I still notice that I am hesitant to ask for help so I am a work in progress. The biggest win for me was being able to phone my father and sister and tell them that my neighbour paid. That was worth more than anything else. I could stand tall and not feel like I had been weak or stupid in the eyes of my family.

Naturally, I thanked Darla and sent her flowers for all she had done. She claims it was nothing but having someone on my side who is knowledgeable in this area saved me so much time, money and stress. In this story, she really was my 'big gun' and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Darla, Thank you.

Next Month: Midnight Pizza and the MRI.

USS Defiant Image sourced from Memory Beta (non-canon Star Trek Wiki): https://memory-beta.fandom.com/wiki/Pulse_phaser

A few months ago, I was asked to write a piece on bullying to mark Pink Shirt Day. I did not focus on the bullying itself, rather the effects it had on me growing up. I learnt to be a very timid person who always tried to be nice to everyone (even the bullies), at the expense of my own well-being. I would like to think that I had outgrown that behaviour so it came as a shock to discover otherwise when I found Dorrit damaged outside my house as I was leaving for work. Approaching the car, I saw a huge dent in the bonnet and a cracked headlight. It is illegal to drive a car with a broken headlight in Ireland, regardless if it still works or not. I assumed Canada had a similar law. This was the very thing I had worried about when I decided to take the car from Nina and my old bullied victim persona was immediately there to taunt me.

“I told you so” he said. “I told you that if you took on having a car, this was bound to happen. Bad things ALWAYS do”.

That evening I returned to find a note on the Dorrit’s windshield. It was from the guilty party, who turned out to be my neighbour’s mother. She took full responsibility for the damage and had already contacted ICBC (Canadian Insurance). Both Rory and Nina told me to phone ICBC as well to ensure the claim was correctly made and being processed. I was told to take the car to an approved car bodyshop to have the damage assessed. Provided the damage did not exceed the market value of the car, it would be repaired. Everything seemed to be going well and that made me more nervous. As my bullied victim persona knew, things are never easy and I should always expect the worst.

“What if they don’t fix the car! You know it is worth around $1,000 dollars and I KNOW there is a lot of damage.”

I had forgotten how normal this kind of inner dialogue was for me growing up. The sheer terror of everyday life. Would I stutter and be targeted today? Would the bullies be lurking around the school corridors waiting to pounce? Were my friends around to protect me? This behaviour kept me meek and unassuming for years, but the payoff was I thought it was keeping me safe from a dangerous world.

I found a bodyshop literally five minutes from my home, phoned them and made an appointment yet I couldn’t shake the fear of the damage being more than the car was worth. I was working myself into a panic over the whole situation. Arriving at the shop, I was greeted by Ethan (not his real name). He came outside with his camera and other equipment. He took a few photos and casually inspected the damage. He said given the damage and the value of the car that it wouldn’t be repaired and that there was no point in submitting a claim.

“See. I told you. Loser.” laughed the bullied victim persona voice in my head.

Ethan was younger than me. I’d say about ten years younger and he was an attractive man. I was already feeling intimidated. He was also the expert and I assumed he could accurately assess damage on visual inspection alone. Yet, something in my gut didn’t feel right. I wanted to push and have the car assessed regardless. That would make the most sense. But, like the bullied boy I used to be, I defaulted to my learnt defense. I was nice about it and didn’t push Ethan on this. Rather, I asked what other options did I have.

He said that the car would be scrapped and I could get the cash value or he could repair it off the books and I could go after my neighbour to pay. Having a car was a great freedom and I felt somewhat obliged to keep it. What would I blog about if Dorrit was gone? That is how I justified my decision to myself and I went ahead with the work, which would cost around $700 with an unpainted bonnet (painting cost an additional $650). I didn’t want to inconvenience Ethan further and he assured me the bonnet would look ok as the car is black.

I wanted to be considerate of my neighbour as well and confront her with the lowest bill possible. She turned out to be an older woman with a small pension. She told me a sad story about being poor and said she could only offer me $150 in cash as a contribution. Legally, she was under no obligation to pay anything. Like with Ethan, I wanted to push harder as I suspected she was lying and taking me for a fool. It was easier for me to play the victim as it was a role that felt familiar, rather than the ‘bad guy’ who would have been more assertive and $700 dollars richer! I was disappointed in myself because deep down I knew the truth. I was too scared to push back, just like when I was younger.

I made everything even worse by telling my sister about it on a Skype call and she looked at me dumbfounded. She told me that if my neighbour damaged the car then she should pay, regardless of it being under the table or her financial situation. Then my father heard about it and he called me telling me the very same thing. He had the exact same look on his face and he was getting angry. He asked me how she was paying to have her own car fixed? He then asked why I hadn’t pushed to have the car assessed. I had no response that I wanted to share with him. It was the look on his face that stuck with me after the call though. I couldn’t figure out what it was or what it meant. When I picked up Dorrit and paid the balance of the bill, Ethan asked when I was getting the cash from my neighbour. True to form, I was totally honest and told him she wasn’t paying. As my answer sunk in, he looked at me with THAT very same look on his face. He told me that my neighbour caused the damage and she should pay. He wanted her number and said he would call her. I wasn’t going to let him do that and I took my key and left.

I arrived home angry and upset. With a cup of tea in hand, I tried to break it all down as logically as I could. Firstly, I could see that I had caused this whole mess by tying myself in knots attempting to be nice to everyone around me. Additionally, if my sister, father and Ethan (who had no reason to care) all had the same reaction then my reasoning and behavior must be flawed in some way. I assumed that they were not angry at me, rather I speculated that they were confused. They were probably asking themselves why I was willing to pay and not stand up assertively for myself, especially when I was not at fault. It was illogical, but then our responses to trauma usually are. I could see that my learnt behavior was ingrained and that I would naturally fall back into it in moments of crisis.

Rather than chastise myself, I finished my cup of tea and sat in silence for a while. Being able to see that and be with it was the win for me. This wasn’t about the money or the car. This was about me, specifically who I was in the past and who I got to choose to be now.  I had nothing to lose and I decided to take action and call in my big gun. Her name is Darla.

Next Month: Darla: The Big Gun.