I have yet to defeat the nerves from trying unfamiliar things, having to push through them every time. This wasn’t fully unfamiliar – as a college student, I remember going with my dad to the Pick and Pull in the Syracuse area. He’d been rear ended, and he was looking for a back tailgate. We found one – a perfect color match, a mildly different model label that created the illusion of a fancier car. When he was done, you couldn’t tell anything had changed. He used the spare wiper motor to fix my own.

Growing up, it seemed like my dad knew how to do everything. There was no evidence to the contrary. Something needed to be done with the cars or house, and he did it. It wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized he learned because he was very willing to try new things. I’ve come to realize that this is the way. Fear of failure, imperfection, or mistakes will keep you from trying at all.

The interior door handle of my car snapped. It is a common problem with my car, a 2012 Ford Fusion. The irony was that I was in the parking lot of a bicycle shop, only driving that day because the brakes of my usual steed had snapped. Here I was, trying to repair one mode of transportation when presented with an issue from another. I took a deep breath, rolled down the window, and opened the car from the outside.

I can be too adaptable sometimes. If there is a work-around, I’ll just do that. But. Winter would roll around and the windows would freeze when ice got in the door. This needed to be fixed while the weather was good. I could take it to the shop – I’m not generally a DIYer with a car – but I just spent a high three figures replacing the exhaust. I tried the YouTube search bar to see what popped up.

Two bolts, three screws, and popping out plastic bits? Unplugging some connections? That’s it? The part is $11 on Amazon? I have all the tools needed? Shoot, I can do that.

Then one of the people on the video said he got the part from the junkyard. A lightbulb went off in my head. I googled “Pick and Pull”. There was one not too far from my house, with 10 Ford Fusions of compatible years. The part was half as much money there. I prefer used objects for the environmental impact. The Fusion had other things that needed to be fixed. A piece broke off my taillight housing. I accidentally broke the third brake light by leaning on it. I started looking up more YouTube how-tos. All of them were variations of popping out plastic rivets, unscrewing bolts, unplugging connections, and key! they were in accessible parts of the car. Alright.

I texted my dad for some etiquette questions. Do you have to reassemble the car? (“Absolutely not.”) More than saving money I realized that this was going to give me practice tearing a car apart, doing my first attempt on something that was never seeing the road again.

So I pulled in with my Fusion, with my biking backpack containing several socket sets, pry bars, my ratcheting screwdriver set, and some pliers. My husband was spending the day taping and mudding the drywall of our bathroom, so this was a solo trip. I’m nervous about doing some unknown thing wrong, about sticking out for my femaleness, and unfamiliarity. I signed in and then paid the cover (yes, junkyards have covers, this was $2) and started to walk through.

The ground sparkled. You too can get this effect: just broken auto glass with gravel. Spray painted numbers on cars in various states of disassembly show you the way. Open hoods, open trunks, broken windows. Some had airbags which had deployed. Some were charred. Some were clearly discarded for being old, having reached the point where repairs exceed the value of the car.

The first taillight I pulled out was cracked and I didn’t realize it. Pay more attention, Chris. But it came out easily, stupid easy. I started wondering what repairs I outsourced not realizing it was a whole three bolts. I was quickly discovering I was far from the only Ford Fusion owner looking for the driver’s side door handle. The first three cars had already had them pulled out. The second two cars had broken ones. The next few cars were missing them too. The usual way for tail lights to exist on a junkyard lot is cracked. The tools were heavy on my back. I found an exact duplicate of my car, color and everything, with a destroyed front end but the 3rd brake light assembly intact. I take it. Onward.

A fellow, Black gentleman about my age, maybe older, disassembling a minivan’s driver’s side mirror with his buddy asked me if I needed help. I smiled and laughed, “Nah, just the part I’m looking for is missing from every single car.” “I hate when that happens!” he replied, clearly familiar with the plight. He described how he was seeking a part with chrome trim “You know I’m going to [other junkyard], it’s only 16 minutes away, called them and they said they had it.” I told him if I wasn’t able to find the part in the last three cars on the lot, I may try too. Thank you for the tip.

I pull the junkyard’s website back up and there are three more cars, 2 of the year of my car, in the second to last row. I think about how my dad probably did this as a teenager when he was working on cars and would have needed to just search the rows, like a treasure hunt. This too felt like a treasure hunt, but the maps are a lot better now.

Luck struck. One of the last Fusions, a 2009, had a door that hadn’t been touched yet. I sat in the driver’s seat and tried the door. It worked. I also take the interior door panel in case I mess up my own. The cost was nominal. I was struck by how much it smelled like my car. Another 2012 had a perfect taillight. With the extra practice, I quickly take it off. I hadn’t planned for how to carry everything so I do my best. The lady cashing me out has a 9 month old in her lap. We talk babies. He was cute. I realize that not a soul there had batted an eye at the fact I was the only woman looking for parts on the lot.

My nine year-old son takes up role as assistant when I get home. With some confidence of familiarity, I show him what I was doing as I was putting the new parts in my car. He unbolted the tail light and bolted the new-to-me one back in. He beams. I show him how the battery works as I reconnect it, how to jump cars. He wants to know how to check the oil. I show him that too – just like my dad showed me. I have him take a video of the brake lights so I can see if they worked – and they do. The new handle opens the car from the inside. For less than $70, my car is in demonstrably better condition. I’m thrilled.

Newer cars are full of computers and not always as simple to repair. These were easy things in the grand scheme of vehicles. The pick and pull was actually kind of fun; the pride from fixing my own car as good as the cost savings. I just have to remember that it’s worth it to try.