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She arrived home at the usual time. I always check the expression on her face to get a reading on what kind of day she has had, thus helping me determine how to play the remainder of the evening. After 54 years of marriage, I sometimes think I can tell whether I’m in trouble, perhaps for some infraction of which I am blissfully unaware.

However, she can be sneaky, greeting me with a serene countenance, then bushwhacking me later… at a time when I least expect it. This evening was to be one of those times. At peace with the world I settled down in my favorite chair with the daily crossword puzzle. And then it happened.

She: “It did it again!”

Me: “What did what again?”

She: “You know, the car.”

Me: “What about the car?”

She: “That noise.”

Me: “What noise?”

She: “You know, that same noise.”

Me: “No, I don’t know that same noise.”

She: “Well, it did it again.”

I now sense disaster just around the corner. We have had similar conversations before, never with a good outcome, for me at least. But, valiant husband that I am, I will desperately try not to lose my temper over the mystery noise.

Me: “Okay, what did it sound like?”

She: “I don’t know; it was just a noise.”

Me: “Do you mean you heard a noise and you don’t know what it sounded like?” (Patience beginning to waiver).

She: “Why do you always have to pick at everything I say when I tell you about a noise the car makes?”

Me: “Because I can’t figure out what to do until I can understand what you’re talking about.”

She: “I told you, it is that little noise it makes when it goes by the church.”

Me: “When what goes by the church?”

She: “There you go, getting smart-mouthed again!”

Aha, a clue! It is a little noise, and she hears it when she goes by the church. Do cars pray, I thought? And, if they do, what language do they pray in? This may be a breakthrough in marriage relations, auto diagnostics and a new spiritual dimension yet unheard of in the auto repair business.

Me: “Which church?”

She: “You know, the church!”

Heavy emphasis on the word church, as if that will give me a clue. Now I am fighting two battles at once, noise and location with spiritual overtones. I sense I am going to lose this verbal exchange without even understanding what it is about.

She: “Why do I always have to explain every little thing in detail to you? Can’t you just accept what I tell you?”

Me: (Strongly considering retreat at this point). “Honey, I have to at least have a clue as to what kind of noise you’re talking about if I’m going to fix it.”

She: “Look, I’ve told you once and I’m not going to tell you again, I don’t know anything about cars. Why don’t you drive the car and see for yourself what I’m talking about?”

Me: “Okay, I will! At least I will be smart enough to know what kind of noise the car is making.” (Bad choice of words… evening ruined).

The next day I took the car to the repair shop.

He: “What kind of a noise did you say it is making?”

Me: “Well, sort of a funny noise, you know, when I was going by the church…”