John Archer

Aspiring for Mediocrity (Hear Me Out)

“Clunk.” As I loosened the jack, the newly attached spare tire collapsed on the asphalt, sinking even farther than the previously removed flat. “Of course,” I chuckled. After an hour or two at Starbucks brainstorming for college essays and writing my summer AP English summer essay, my once-white 2003 Camry, the automotive paradigm of reliability, decided to bail on me. Well, the model of reliability in the early 2000s, I should say. But to be fair, she had lived up to her name, consistently crapping out every few thousand miles like clockwork. Regardless, the mini air compressor in the trunk saved me, and I pumped up the spare enough to limp her to a mechanic.

The constant upkeep has become a fixed routine. First, the dreaded check engine light shines with a misplaced sense of pride (I could have told you something was wrong with the car on my own, but whatever). Then on the way to AutoZone to run the code, I ponder, “which ignition coil is it this time?” as my eyes drift past the cracked console. I switch lanes almost effortlessly, which may be credited to the fact that the car pulls to the right, but still, effortlessly. And as I turn into the parking lot, the wheel cries out in discomfort. “Eeeeeeeee!!” After I get home, I wait for the car to cool off before replacing coil #3 (just as I suspected), and while I’m under the hood, I decide to check the oil level, since it’s been a few weeks. Just below the bottom marker of the dipstick. I sigh and grab a quart of NAPA 5W-30 synthetic blend. Somehow she burns through a quart of it every couple months. Although it might seem obvious in hindsight, it actually took me a while to realize that I wasn’t trying to make the car perfect, but simply keeping it running, still a tall task of its own.

This form of problem-solving had not come easily to me until recently. I like to call it aspiring for mediocrity, not perfection. Now I know that seems unambitious and a bit contradictory. But it’s quite the opposite. Hear me out.

The world is not built on perfection.

Local charities do not for one moment attempt to fix poverty altogether. Instead, they work on making it better. Peace talks are never aimed at achieving a utopia, and I would argue that the first hope of those in war-torn regions is not paradise. It is only an end to the fighting.

See, without these flaws, we would live in a world devoid of problem-solving. Devoid of diplomacy. Devoid of mechanics and repair shops.

It is these “imperfections” that even allow the opportunity for fulfilling problem solving. Yet in some strange way, these same imperfections drive me and others like me to improve them. To rid the world of them and find some more. Humanitarians. Environmentalists. Cancer researchers. Scientists. Repairmen. And after adding some oil and changing the flat, we know we can’t magically transform this 2003 Camry into a new car. But we will never stop trying to make it run just a little smoother.