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I was about as far away from joy as a person can get. A steady stream of cars whizzed by, and I sat stuck on the side of the Arizona freeway, rattling sounds of death coming from under the hood of Ms. Taupe.

I left the engine running, not ready to believe that our brand new van would betray me so soon in its young life. Raising the hood, I watched the rhythmic flapping of a broken belt whipping against the hood at 900 rpm and beating in the hard realities: get to a mechanic, quick.

I should have been ready for this. We'd had plenty of practice this past year. This new taupe van replaced our old brown van when it had seemed destined to encamp permanently in the sixth service bay of our mechanic's shop. Ken had replaced the engine. He had replaced the replacement engine. And the battery, the battery again, the battery cables, the fuel pump regulator, the fuel pump, the starter, the alternator, and the transmission. Each repair in its turn had offered hope. We would pay our bill and drive away, glad to have Ol' Brown up and running, only to find ourselves broken down two days later, calling the tow truck from the cell phone.

We were on a first name basis with the tow truck driver. He was even thinking of creating a punch card in our honor, with the "twelfth tow free." Finally, with little hope on the horizon, we put Ol' Brown up for sale and bought pretty Ms. Taupe. She was the answer to our prayers: new, reliable, and problem-free.

Thus, inching along the emergency lane of the freeway, I was not in the mood for joy. I thought I'd handled today's breakdown surprisingly well when I made a firm decision not to cry.

I managed to guide Ms. Taupe slowly off the freeway and three miles back to the dealer. He nodded his head, "Yep. It's the timing belt. We're busy today, but we can have her done by five." My morning was shot. The day was lost. Hunching my shoulders, I pulled up my socks and slung my purse over my shoulders. I decided to walk home from Earnie's Ford. An hour of walking would give me plenty of time to revise the day. Two miles.

I started off, trudging and ruminating. Car repairs were only the tip of the iceberg for our family in the past year. With each step my mind reviewed some past difficulty: legal fights, court proceedings, home repairs, water leaks, termites, illness, death, computer crashes, work reassignments, family wars, financial stress—the list went on and on.

I always considered myself a cheerful survivor, but this year had almost buried me. Each and every time, just when I was sure life might be turning the corner, another major problem would pop up, and I lost hold of all control. Like a game of bobbing for apples, I felt I was kneeling at the edge of a tub, bobbing for solutions that sank out of sight and, if caught, never hung on for very long.

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