Lil’ Miss Hustla and Her (not so) New Car

Sometimes I think about how I was dirt-broke, desperate to get stable transportation for Baby Z and I, so I wrote a letter, printed it off 30 times, and addressed it to different dealerships in my area.

In so many words, I told them my story. I told them how much I needed a car. I told them that I needed a chance to get on my feet; that I could even commit to a car note because I was confident I’d be getting a new, higher-paying job soon. At that time, I was extremely tired of walking 2-3 miles daily just to get my daughter to school. I was tired of being limited to the bus. I was tired of watching Uber and Lyft burn massive holes in my pockets. I was fed up. Though I’m no stranger to the car-less life, I felt like I didn’t deserve that particular hand I was dealt. When I published my first-ever educational e-book (Let’s Talk About Sex!), I used the thousands of dollars I got from sales to drive off the lot with a new (used) car, Baby Z in the backseat. It is still one of my greatest accomplishments to date. 

I treated that car good, too. It was the one of the first times I truly felt like I worked hard and earned something, so it was only right I stayed on top of my oil changes, maintenance repairs, and car washes. 

Imagine how many pieces my heart shattered into the day I walked outside to find my car had several bulletholes ranging from the front window to the engine itself. Yup. Without my knowledge or influence, one of my biggest blessings was completely snatched from me in the night. I remember how low I felt; how loudly I cried on the porch outside. I can still hear the gunshot sounds that echoed outside my room window the night before. I didn’t even think they were gunshots! That apartment complex was notorious for unsupervised teenagers, causing havoc throughout the night with firecrackers and small explosives. I’d assumed they were doing what they always do. Nope. It was actually a nice sprinkle of gun violence, dooming me to a new chapter of unreliable transportation. 

I sulked for a few days because I couldn’t muster the energy to gameplan my way out of the emotional rut. Before then, I always did that. I always picked up my feelings of defeat and did what I had to do. When life gives you lemons…. Well, you know the rest. 

But this was different. I wasn’t making enough money to put into a down payment. Frequent Lyft costs were destroying me. Baby Z was younger, so I couldn’t work and hustle all day to make extra funds. I had an unchecked, torn ACL, limited to minimal walking and a crappy knee brace. I felt stuck, brainstorming ideas for my next move. 

So when the letter idea dawned on me a few months later, I truly felt I’d outdone myself. When I sent those letters, I’d never felt such optimism before. 30 dealerships, 1 well-written letter, and some intense prayer seemed like a promising catalyst for a great outcome. I’d hoped (and honestly expected) tons of calls. I sent the letters out in December, right around Christmas time. I was hoping to catch some of that holiday jolliness floating around. I decorated the outsides of each envelope to catch everyone’s attention. In my mind, it was fail-proof.

I didn’t get tons of calls. 

Well, I got some, but nowhere near 30 of them. Most of my letters probably went straight to the trash can. Yikes. After 3 days, a few calls started trickling in. They were mostly giving me offers of a low(er) down-payment. Don’t get me wrong, I was entirely grateful for the lowered fees, but I couldn’t even afford -that-. I needed someone to be crazy and trusting enough to give me a car upfront and let me start paying on it later. I know it sounds crazy. That’s because it is. 

So when Ms. Wykisha called me that day, I couldn’t help but tear up. 

“It takes such courage to put yourself out there,” she said to me.

“I was truly touched by your story.”

“I’m going to talk to my husband and see if we can work something out.” It was the most hope I’d felt in a while. Her husband, Mr. Mario, ended up calling me and we chatted a bit about my situation. He informed me his family were taking a family vacation that upcoming week, but he’d get back to me. Believe me when I say waiting on that callback over the next week felt like Hell. I had no choice but to buckle down in patience and trust the process. 

And when he finally reached back out exactly 11 days later, I felt that glimmer of hope again. 3 meetings, 3 phone calls, an establishment of insurance, and a ton of paperwork later, I was handed the key to a 2012 Nissan Altima. I had a car. With no down payment, mind you. 

Sure, I had a car note. But I also had a new job lined up. I signed up for GrubHub. I was ready to hustle and get back on my feet… or off, since I wasn’t gonna be walking miles everyday on a torn ACL anymore. As of today, about a year and half later, I have exactly 12 more bi-weekly payments left. Just 12 out of 40 total. I’ve never missed a payment (even now, after being laid off since May), I’ve maintained this car, and being mobile has improved my life back to the position it was in. There are days I’ll be driving and I’ll spontaneously fill up with such gratitude and happiness that Ms. Wykisha and Mr. Mario felt my heart and took a chance on me. I am grateful to the Universe for giving me this idea, for guiding me in which dealerships I mailed the letters to, and for allowing me a chance to do right by this blessing. 

Knowing that I’m this close to completely paying off my first-ever car note feels surreal, like I’m the epitome of grind and responsibility. I guess the lesson in this short, reflective piece is that sometimes you have to hustle in unorthodox ways. Sometimes you have to bet on yourself and trust crazy processes. That’s what it means to be self-sufficient, to be a thinker, and to be a hustla. 

If there are obstacles in your way, don’t limit your potential to what only seems possible. The impossible is more tangible than we think. 

Z