How Every Flawed Republican Argument Is a Thought Terminating Cliche

Some people blaze trails and others create obstacles

Luis directed the blowtorch at the brake caliper. “If I can get the pins out,” he said, “it will save you from having to buy a new one.”

I took his word for it. Luis has been my mechanic for a long time. I got to know him through my wife. She is an ELL teacher at the local school district. Over the years, she’s engendered a lot of goodwill in the Spanish speaking community. She taught one of Luis’s kids and, in return, he always makes time to see me when our vehicles misbehave.

The pin turned red. Luis threw me a wink. “I’ll teach it!”

My wife’s been at her job long enough to see how the system gobbles up vulnerable populations. She’s observed that her students always do better when they achieve some stability.

Often, that simply means finding a home.

But when a family doesn’t speak English, they miss the notifications that come in the mail. After a few months, they find themselves running into issues with the school district, or they lose their jobs, or they get evicted.

They pack up, relocate, and the whole process starts again. If they’re lucky, they end up in my wife’s district. She takes the time to let them know the responses they have to send in order to remain in the good graces of a community. Good teachers know that the best way to help students is to provide some basic assistance for the parents.

“It’s all so simple,” they say, “why didn’t anyone explain this before?”

“Because half the people in the world create pathways, and the other half create obstacles,” my wife explains. “That’s why the road we travel has twists and turns like a river.”

Luis put down the blowtorch, picked up a vise-grip and started pounding on the pin with a hammer. After a moment, he had it free. He held it up to me with a smile. “Got it!”

“Hello?” came a voice from behind us. I turned to look. Luis’s garage is in a warehouse behind a car dealership. It’s cold to work there in the winter, but Luis has a couple of heaters to make the conditions a little more bearable.

The speaker looked to be about 60. He stood a little taller than I am, so that put him over 6 feet, but he was thinner. Something about him made me think he might be ex-military. He moved with a certain wariness, and his eyes were drawn into slits behind his glasses. I got the sense that he didn’t particularly care to be standing in the doorway of Luis’s garage.

“Can I help you?” Luis asked.

The man ignored me. He ignored the fact that Luis was clearly already occupied with a customer. “My son’s vehicle is in the garage next door. The battery is dead. I was told you can help.”

I realized this was the type of man who felt all his problems deserved immediate attention at the expense of everyone else.

Luis set down the vice grip and went to have a look. I didn’t complain. I had time, and Luis always gets me back on the road, but I trailed along behind to observe because that’s what I do.

The vehicle in the adjoining garage was one of those obnoxious trucks that’s more about intimidation than practical value. The hood was already popped, the man had done that much at least.

Luis affixed some sort of magical mechanic device that told him everything that was wrong with the car.

“It sounds like you need to charge the battery,” I said. I have a habit of making comments that sound like they’re meant to be helpful, but are really designed to needle.

“They jumped it four times,” the man replied.

“My wife and kids ran the battery down on my car when they were cleaning it,” I said. “They used a vacuum that plugged into the cigarette lighter. But I charged the battery overnight and it’s worked fine ever since.”

The man was about to say something when Luis tried the key. The engine started right up. The man gave me a pained look. I started to laugh.

“That’s the way it always goes. Whatever doesn’t work tends to work just fine when the mechanic touches it. But once you get it home the problem starts again.”

I retreated back to Luis’s garage. I expected Luis to be along momentarily, but the stranger was in no hurry to dismiss him. As Luis finished up with a couple minor adjustments, the man started talking politics. This made me tense up because Luis is an immigrant. Immigrants are always the target of abuse, particularly by a certain type of man who drives a certain type of truck.

I didn’t hear everything they said, but one thing did stand out. The man commented, “I’m so disappointed with the choices. You’re telling me that in a country of 300 million people, these are the best two candidates they can find?”

Those words made me recall a conversation I’d had back in 2016. I remember people saying that they didn’t like the choices during that election cycle either. I realized it’s a way of cornering you into agreement.

It’s easier to say, “I don’t like the choices either.” It’s a lot harder to respond, “I don’t feel that way at all. To be honest, I think one of the choices is very good and the other is very bad.”

To say that feels like you’re rejecting a peace offering, but what if that’s based on a false premise?

The man continued. “I mean, he’s a liar, everybody knows that, but so is she! They’re all liars! They all serve themselves!”

I recognized that statement as a thought terminating cliche. It was a manipulative generalization designed to stop critical thinking.

I felt tempted to join the conversation. Every part of me wanted to speak up and declare, “They are not the same. They couldn’t be any more different.” But I had to think of Luis. If I waded in there to provoke the stranger, Luis would have to pay the consequences not me. This was Luis’s place of business. He couldn’t afford the poor reviews and other pressures that are the inevitable consequence when a certain kind of man feels he’s been slighted.

Luis would be the one facing an eviction notice. So I held my tongue.

As Luis finished up, the man handed him some cash.

“I appreciate you,” Luis said.

“I appreciate you too,” the stranger replied. His voice seemed strained as if the words pained him.

Luis returned to finish up with my brakes. The truck roared to life and the stranger drove away.

A short while later, another car pulled up. This was a smaller vehicle. The driver gave me a cursory look and then started speaking to Luis in Spanish. Luis addressed him as Victor.

I realized that Victor assumed I was just another white guy. He probably put me in the same class as the truck owner. I’ve been in this situation before and I quickly introduced myself in Spanish. I wanted him to know I spoke Spanish. I wanted to spare him the potential embarrassment that might come from assuming I didn’t.

He wouldn’t have been wrong to think that. Most people who look like me don’t speak Spanish.

Victor seemed a little wary of me at first, but I gained his confidence as we chatted. Luis is a world class talker, but he was content to listen and work on my brakes as Victor and I spoke.

I told Victor about my wife and how she had gone through a program to get her degree accredited so she could land a job in the local school district. Victor perked up at this as I suspected he would. There are many overqualified immigrants in the United States who don’t know it’s possible to get credit for the certifications they’ve already earned.

Accreditation services are an established pathway. The fact that this pathway is hidden is another obstacle.

I showed Victor the web page and explained the process. “It’s kind of complex and there’s a little bit of an expense, but it’s valuable to have this documentation,” I said. “You can use it to land a job, or you can take it to the university and it might allow you to get a second degree at a fraction of the cost.”

Then I told Victor about the education web page that provided job listings in the state. There are always openings for Spanish speakers. There are many kids in vulnerable situations who need the guidance of people with integrity who know how to get around obstacles.

“If it’s not somebody like you, Victor,” I said. “It will be somebody who will tell them that the obstacles are insurmountable.”

Victor took this to heart. We exchanged emails. I told him not to hesitate to write to me. I’d help him find work that was more suited to his education.

By then Luis had finished up my car. He gave me a price that was too low, so I added $100. When you find a mechanic who is willing to drop everything and work on your vehicle, it’s worth paying him extra. “Give my best to your family,” I said.

“To yours as well,” Luis replied.

The car ran smoothly as I navigated the winding path to my home. Along the way, it occurred to me that no journey is ever a straight line. Whenever you find an insurmountable obstacle, you need only look for a way around.

Some people try to claim that all paths are the same. They claim that all paths have obstacles. They use that argument to insist you’re better off staying where you are. It can’t get any better, so you might as well accept your fate and get to work.

But I know that’s not true. The people who put the obstacles in your path are not all powerful. They can’t build a wall to block you from your destiny. All you need to do is find a guide to help you get around. If you can’t find a guide, you should aspire to become one.

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