My Car Wasn’t the Only One Breaking Down

Heya fellows,

I didn’t plan on being the person who talks about her car like it’s a moody roommate. But here we are.

This morning started like every other one lately: I hit snooze three times, spilled a bit of coffee down my shirt (of course, it was white), and told myself, “It’s fine, I’ll fix my life tomorrow.” Classic me.

By the time I slid into my car— half-awake, entirely over it—I was already running 14 minutes behind. Not “late-late,” but the kind of late that makes traffic feel extra personal. I threw my tote in the passenger seat, turned the key, and immediately heard the engine start.

A weird whirring sound. You know the kind—like the engine’s trying to tell you it has a sore throat but doesn’t want to cause a scene.

I stared at the dashboard. No lights. No alerts. Just the sound. I did what most of us do: ignored it and drove anyway.

Because life doesn’t stop for a whirring noise, right?

Somewhere between Al Quoz and “Why is everyone suddenly braking?” I realized my steering felt heavier. Not enough to panic, but sufficient for my palms to sweat just a little. Dubai roads are no joke when your car decides it wants to freestyle.

I cranked the A/C (still working, thank God) and kept driving. I had errands to run and appointments to attend, pretending I was emotionally prepared for them. But every stop, every roundabout, I noticed it more—my car was tired. Like really tired.

Honestly? So was I.

It’s peculiar how machines seem to reflect our moods. The sluggish start, the awkward stutter in the middle of a U-turn, the slight delay when I hit the gas—I felt all of that, not just in the car, but in me. Perhaps we were both overdue for a check-in.

I ran my errands. Picked up some fabric swatches for a project I’ve been half-working on and grabbed a matcha because I’m trying to be that girl (still not). All the while, I pretended my car wasn’t making new sounds with every passing hour.

When I got home and shut the engine off, I sat in the silence for a second. And I knew—I couldn’t put this off anymore.

I remembered this place a friend mentioned—Car Garage Expert—said they were honest, quick, and didn’t make you feel dumb for not knowing what “caliper” meant (I still don’t, by the way). I booked a checkup online before I could talk myself out of it.

I didn’t write this to promote a garage, don’t worry. I’m just a girl trying not to end up stuck on the side of Sheikh Zayed Road in 48°C heat.

The next day, I dropped off my car, and they gave me a coffee while I waited. Not one of those sad ones from a vending machine, either. An actual cup. The guy who checked me in didn’t laugh when I said, “It’s making...a noise?” which I appreciated more than I expected.

They called me a few hours later: it was alignment and brakes, plus some overdue service stuff I knew about but didn’t want to admit. It wasn’t a crisis. But it could’ve been, eventually.

When I got back behind the wheel later that week, something had shifted—and not just the car. It felt smoother, lighter. More responsive. And weirdly, I did too.

I know that sounds dramatic. It could be. But I think it’s the little things we ignore—like a noise that doesn’t sound that bad or a light that’s probably just a sensor glitch—that start to weigh on us. We’re so good at functioning through the low hum of things that aren’t quite right.

I’d been ignoring my own “weird noises” for weeks. Not sleeping well and pushing past burnout. Pretending everything was okay because technically nothing was on fire.

You can coast for a while. But eventually, something makes you stop.

The car’s fine now. Better than acceptable, honestly. And I’ve started doing these silly little check-ins with myself, too—nothing major. Just pausing for a second before I rush into the next thing. Asking, “Am I making weird noises?” metaphorically, of course.

I’m not saying a brake pad changed my life, but I'm saying there’s something powerful in listening to your car, your body, and your gut. To the parts of you (and your engine) that say, “Hey, I need a minute.”

So if you’ve been ignoring that feeling—about your car or your brain—this is your nudge. Get the checkup. Book the appointment. Take the nap. Drink the water. You deserve to run smoothly, too.

Lemme know in the comments if you like it.

– Sara