Today was the first day of school. This year is going to be an adventure.
You know, teaching is like a driving a jalopy cross-country. Your ride might look ragged, but it's a trusted machine that's taken you to far off places. It's never failed you, but it's certainly not fresh off the lot. You check the tires, top-off the fluids, and pull out of the driveway with your fingers crossed and five quarts of motor oil riding shotgun. You overheat, your radio stops working, you get a speeding ticket, and you might even forget what side the gas cap is on. But when you hit the coast, you open your creaky door, shake the sciatica out of your legs, and celebrate another great journey. Now, you just have to get back home...winter break is over.
You hit the state line at midnight. You're exhausted, but you've got another hundred miles to go. Your clunker is hobbling down the road to the rhythm of its balding tires. You pull in the garage, cross the finish line, and toast to what might well have been a great success with expired orange juice and a cold slice of pizza that hasn't moved since you left...school's out for summer.
When you wake up the next day, you're ready to reminisce. You remember the smell of the sea, not the smell of exhaust. You remember the sound of the waves, not the engine knocking.
The thing about a jalopy is this...when you're sure you have one, you can be sure you're the only one who can drive it. Nobody else knows how to start the engine on a cold day. Nobody else knows how to get the passenger window to roll down. Nobody else knows how many miles you really have left when the gas gauge says you're empty. Now, before you park it in the front yard with a "for sale" sign in the window, remember, it took you an extended warranty, a hundred oil changes, and two decades of model years to truly learn to how to drive. So, until your junker can resale for as many dollars as miles it has traveled, keep on driving. There is always more road to ride so long as there is fuel in the tank.
