The greatest irony of being an author — whether you see it as a gift or a curse — lies in the fact that every experience, good or bad, eventually finds its way into a story.
Fair warning: this one’s about life’s not-so-pretty moments. Proceed with caution (or curiosity).
Losing a car in Canada isn’t exactly a rare story. Between thefts, icy roads, and unpredictable accidents, many Canadians have faced the dreaded “total loss” situation. Insurance companies are well-versed in handling those — after all, that’s what you pay premiums for. But when your car dies — when the engine simply gives up — that’s a different kind of heartbreak. There’s no coverage for that. No payout. Just silence, bills, and questions that go nowhere.
And then comes what I call the insult to injury — if you still have a loan on that dead car, you’re on the hook for it. The monthly payments keep rolling in, even as your car sits lifeless in the driveway. It’s a double whammy that hits both the heart and the wallet.
And then, of course, there are the wise ones — the people in everyone’s life who seem to be waiting in the wings just for moments like this. The minute you screw up, they appear, ready to sprinkle a little extra salt on your wound (as we say back in India, adding insult to injury). They’ll shake their heads wisely and say, “You should’ve bought that extended mechanical warranty.” Sure, maybe they’re right — in theory. But from where I’m standing, in the mood I’m in, my brain just screams, shut the fuck up, every time someone offers such “helpful” advice.
Every time I step outside, I see it, sitting there like a monument to frustration. It’s not just a machine anymore; it’s a reminder. A reminder of what went wrong. A reminder of helplessness. And the worst part? The endless loop of questions that haunt you.
Was it my fault? Did I miss a service? No, I did it on time — even before the dashboard reminder was due. Then was it the dealership? Did they sell us a lemon dressed as a dream car? You start to question everything, but answers are few and far between.
Repair costs? Astronomical. Not worth the price of bringing it back to life. Selling it? Practically impossible. So there it sits, quietly mocking me every morning. A driveway ghost.
Cars in Canada are more than just transportation — they’re a lifeline in a country where public transit can’t always take you where you need to go, especially in the cold months. Losing one feels like losing a part of your independence.
Maybe someday I’ll move on. Maybe someday I’ll park a new car where my old one now rests. But for now, the pain lingers — mixed with regret, confusion, and a sense of being let down by a system that doesn’t care why your car died, only that it did.
Until then, every glance at it is a reminder of a lesson learned the hard way — in the land of long winters, short summers, and very expensive mistakes.
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