Warning Lights: Lessons from the Dashboard of a ’79 Datsun Hatchback

Her name was Dottie. Dottie Datsun.

She was a very used, very troubled sky-blue Datsun 210 Hatchback, and she was my first car. Together, we traveled through college internships, weekend road trips and first interviews. Eventually, she moved me and my belongings to Chicago for my first “real” job. 

Well-worn and band-aided with Bondo, Dottie had more problems than I could afford. But she was all I had, so she had to do.

There were strange squeals as she turned and random engine wheezing coughs. She mysteriously shook if she went too fast. With money budgeted for fun rather than a mechanic, I kept her going with a steady diet of drive belt dressing and fuel additives. I turned up the stereo when she made strange noises. As long as Dottie started and the stereo worked, I overlooked the warning signs and pulled away from the curb. 

We all know how this story ends. Not well.

Glowing dashboard lights can only be ignored for so long. They are, after all, called warning lights.

So, yes, eventually the car stopped working. It wasn’t convenient how, when and where she conked. (That’s a whole other story.) At least I was safe when she did. What I recall most clearly was the stunning price the mechanic quoted to resuscitate her and his disbelief that I’d ignored all the warnings. 

“You could’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble if you’d paid attention to this earlier,” he said.

Well, duh, Mr. Smarty-pants Mechanic. If I’d wanted to pay attention, I wouldn’t have kept the stereo volume up so high!

So, why this reminiscence of my first car? I discovered her photo (above) in some keepsakes. Despite my negligence, she was a trooper during those first adult years of my life. In fact, I don’t recall taking photos of any other car, but the old Dot was my first. We learned much together.

Remembering her also reminded me of a continuing struggle: I distract myself from problems I don’t want to address. The messier or more shameful the problem, the harder it is to look at honestly.

Dottie Datsun is my metaphor for times I’ve been cranking the stereo’s volume and avoiding warning signals on my own life’s dashboard.

Don’t we all ignore warning lights at times? Give effort to short-term fixes rather than long-term solutions? Create distraction instead of honest assessment? Figure we’ll do the ‘heavy lifting’ some other day? Kick the can down the proverbial road despite escalating costs to ourselves…our relationships…our livelihoods?

And that’s the rub. Avoidance only gets us so far. It isn’t sustainable for the journey. Not a healthy one, at least.

I can’t speak for you, but for me, after the losses and turmoil experienced in these last couple of years, the journey feels more precious than ever. I want to respect what it’s taught me.

Avoidance only gets us so far. It isn’t sustainable for the journey.

As the calendar pages continue to turn, I’m committing to giving attention to some of what I’ve been avoiding. I invite you to check your own inner dashboards, run some diagnostic tests and be honest with the results.

Which warning lights are flashing? Personal fulfillment? Relationships? Health? Self-care? Maybe it’s financial, spiritual or a need for more joy. What short-sited decisions are costing you health, wholeness and happiness?

We can’t go backward. We can only apply what we learn as we move ahead. Maya Angelou said, “When we know better, we do better.” That young adult I once was avoided obvious signs of problems. She learned her misstep the hard way. But now I’m older and I know better. It’s time to step-up and do better, too.

I don’t know what ‘taking the next step’ looks like for you. That’s your journey. Yet I hope you’ll give attention to the warning lights flashing in your life. And more than anything, I wish you the courage and honesty to see them clearly.