When I called Uber for a ride to the Tampa Airport, the most I bargained for was a silver Hyundai that showed up on time.

I got all that, plus Edward (not his real name), a sunroof and more inspiring life hacks than a self-help book.

Seems that Edward had just paid off the car, which he bought not only for his Uber side gig and regular work transportation but also to accommodate the aging bones of his father, age 89.

He really wanted a Jeep, he said, but that wouldn’t do.  Too high for dad to get in.

After years of used cars with unexpected repair bills, he’d opted this time for a new one with a warranty so he could level his expenses.

He was socking away his savings for world travels in retirement.  He’d taken a look at the most affordable countries and based on the daily cost of living, he could exhaust his funds about the time he ran out of years – and still eat a lot of meals out.

Meanwhile, he was listening to Pavarotti on the radio.

And yesterday, he’d taken a blissful day off to celebrate that the car was paid off and that Hurricane Milton, which blew off his carport roof, didn’t destroy the car.

“We were lucky,” he said.

Lucky.  A word I haven’t heard much lately. It made my day.