Jesus Literally Took the Wheel…A Story Every Mom (and the People Who Love Her) Needs to Read

Red. Fire. Alert. Danger. Halt. Stop. Wait.

“STEERING FAULT. SERVICE IMMEDIATELY.”

Soooo… apparently I may not have taken the original bright orange warning message as seriously as I should have.

In my defense, it was orange. Orange feels more like a “Hey girl, maybe sometime soon…” than a “YOUR LIFE IS IN DANGER” kind of warning.

So there I was, flying, no, let’s call it gracefully sailing, down I-75 at a speed that may or may not have slightly exceeded the posted limit, when that cheerful orange warning suddenly transformed into an aggressive red alert. At the exact same moment, my steering wheel started tightening up like it was preparing for battle.

Naturally, I exited immediately and took the back roads home, completely unaware that Jesus Himself had apparently grabbed the wheel and said, “I got this, sis.” Because the next morning? NOTHING. No steering. NONE. Zero. The wheel might as well have been welded in place.

At that moment, I had no choice but to adult-up.

I called mechanics.
I called AAA.
I called the rental car company.

And honestly? I’m proud to announce my adulting skills are apparently improving with age because I had the entire situation handled in under 20 minutes. Growth. Maturity. Character development.

The tow truck arrived, and I sadly watched my beloved family/mom-mobile get hauled away on a flatbed like a fallen soldier. And listen… the timing? This all happened on Mother’s Day.

Nothing says “Happy Mother’s Day” quite like watching your mom wagon disappear into the sunset. That vehicle carried kids, groceries, sports bags, emotional support snacks, random cups, half my personal identity, and approximately 74 forgotten water bottles. So yes, there may have been a tiny emotional breakdown happening internally.

UNTIL…

Enterprise handed me the keys to what can only be described as the greatest surprise of my motherhood career.

I walked into Enterprise as the only mom surrounded by four thirty-something men, cracked a small mom joke, signed the paperwork, and then… I slid into the cleanest, most beautiful, heavenly vehicle I have ever experienced in my life.

Y’ALL.

I accidentally gifted myself the BEST Mother’s Day present EVER.

Not only was this car spotless — no crumbs, no weird smells, no sticky cupholders, no mysterious backseat sock — but it was a brand-new black Toyota Camry with only 8,000 miles on it.

And let me explain something to my fellow moms: when you’ve been driving a well-loved family vehicle for years, working features start to feel luxurious.

This car had:
• A backup camera that actually worked
• A giant beautiful screen
• Bluetooth that connected instantly
• A phone charger built INTO THE CAR
• Amazing gas mileage
• Silence
• PEACE

PEACE, Y’ALL.

I didn’t realize how overstimulated I’d become until I sat in a car that wasn’t screaming chaos at me from every angle.

Then it got even better.

I stopped for gas, and the pump card reader wasn’t working, so I figured I’d just throw in $30 and deal with it later. I paid, got back into the car, looked at the dashboard… and nearly passed away.

THREE HUNDRED AND SIXTY MILES.

For $30.

I am emotionally attached to this Camry now.

At this point, I do not want my mom-mobile back. I said what I said.

And yes, I feel at least three metric tons of guilt because this sleek little car does NOT fit my actual lifestyle. It can’t haul everyone, everything, sports equipment, Costco runs, emotional baggage, and half the neighborhood children. But for this brief little moment? God said, “Here. Let me give you a break.”

And honestly… it hit me hard.

Because moms — especially sole parents — spend so much time carrying everything for everyone else. We absorb the complaints, solve the problems, remember the schedules, clean the messes, buy the groceries, answer the texts, fix the disasters, and somehow keep functioning while running on caffeine, stress, and unanswered group chats.

.

So climbing into a spotless, quiet, beautiful car for a few days felt weirdly emotional.

It reminded me there’s still a me underneath all the responsibilities.

And now I’m convinced: if you’re ever wondering what to get a mom for Mother’s Day, her birthday, or honestly any occasion… forget flowers. Forget candles. Forget another coffee mug.

Rent. Her. Dream. Car.

Even for just a weekend.

Let her drive something fun. Let her sit in silence. Let her feel human again instead of just functioning as everyone else’s support staff.

10/10 experience.
Would absolutely cry in a Toyota Camry again. Also, I’m going to go sleep in the car.