Maggi Van Drunen- Blog Abroad

Blog #1

August 2026

Adulting and Automotive Mortality

I think that studying abroad is a bit like speed-running being an adult. In the two months I’ve spent in New Zealand, I have bought a car, blown it up, repaired it, and now feed her fuel conditioner every time I fill her up. I sought out legal advice and attempted (unsuccessfully) to dispute a charge from a mechanic. I called the police when my friend was stuck in a rip current, which resulted in three cop cars, two boats, and one helicopter coming to the rescue. I stranded myself and five people I had just met, only two hours into a road trip. I opened a bank account, wired over the money to fill it, and figured out my tax status. I’ve spent hours terrorizing Facebook Marketplace and acquired a snowboard, a moka pot, a surfboard, a wetsuit, a bike, a mirror for my room, a lab coat.

Don’t get me wrong - I am proud of the ways I have pivoted and adapted to the challenges that I have encountered. On paper, it seems impressive. Living it out, in all of the instability and insecurity and fear, is quite another matter. The car has been by far the biggest point of strain. In all of the novel steps of assessing and buying and maintaining and then breaking the thing, I have become intimately acquainted with my capacity to be short-sighted, hasty, and quite idiotic. The worst bit is that I did everything I could think of to cover my bases, and I still ended up stranded on the side of the road because of a completely preventable mistake that was frankly entirely my fault. I had checked tire pressure, bought the correct size of snow chains and learned to use them. I sorted registration and insurance, replaced the radiator, did an oil change, and then had the dang thing jump when the battery died. And still, I find myself tied to a massive metal liability with an increasingly uncertain future. 

I try to focus on the positives. I have learned a lot - I can now tell you about every component in the fuel line, what it does, and (most unfortunately) how much it costs to replace it. I consider driving my hospice-patient of a car to be a harsh practice in learning to hold things lightly. The remnants of the additive that I mistook for petrol may continue to work their way through the fuel system, crystallizing with the potential to corrupt every component of the fuel line. It’s a great reminder that the function of everything is bound in some sense by time. Mortality underpins all things and I am forced to reconcile with that truth when my 2001 Toyota gives an almighty shudder. Every time I sit behind the wheel I have to take a breath and remind myself that it is out of my hands and therefore needs to be out of my mind and heart as well. To do my best and still remain unattached to the outcome is something that I am not familiar with. Can I try as hard as I can -  in my academics, in my friendships, in maintaining the car - and still be able to let it go and laugh when something inevitably blows up in my face? Maybe that is one of the more important components to adulting after all. I am learning to repeatedly check all the boxes I can, give it my absolute best shot, and then still throw it all to the wind.