The Question of the Foldable Car

#AutisticMinds

The Question

“So,” says my son Allen, an adult who exists somewhere on the autism spectrum, “I’m not really happy with the way the foldable car is turning out. I want to talk about it for a minute.”

I nod my head, prepared to listen. The “Foldable Car” has been both an on-going project and continuous conversation for three years. We spent six months hunting wooden pallets in parking lots with dumpsters, then experimented with large industrial fans to provide propulsion. The detritus of not one by TWO foldable cars now lives on what was once my outside patio.

“The thing is,” said Allen, “now that the robot project is going pretty well, I’m thinking I should maybe give up on the foldable car and just concentrate on the robot.”

As always, I want Allen to know I support him in his various “inventions”, even though I don’t understand a single one of them. I see a pile of wooden pallets, he sees a movable vehicle that will fold up for parking. A major part of Allen’s mourning process after his father died three years ago, any mention of his work as being “impractical” or “not making sense” usually results in a meltdown.

I’m tired. I worked all day. I’d like to avoid a meltdown,  if I can.

The Answer

I measure my words carefully. “Well,” I say, “I think you had a really good idea with the foldable car. But maybe the materials you need to build it haven’t been invented yet. Something more lightweight than the wooden pallets, and a better way to attach the wheels to it.”

“The wheels are okay,” he says. “That’s not really a problem.”

I nod and backpedal. Honestly, I want the monstrosity off the patio, but I want to be gentle with my son’s emotions. “Then there’s the engine part,” I say. “We never really did figure out how to make that work since the fan needs a cord and an outlet.”

“I thought the sail idea worked out pretty well,” he says.

I try again. “That was very clever. But is this going to be something that will be road-worthy? Or maybe just a go-cart kind of thing.”

Allen is looking at me, his head cocked to one side. I can’t quite read him.

“Anyway,” I finish lamely, “while it was a good idea and you worked hard on it, I think the time for the foldable car has not yet come.” 

There. I’ve said it. Let the chips fall.

And The Response…

There is silence for a few seconds while Allen processes my words. A look of puzzlement crosses his face. He heaves a sigh that tells me I’ve missed the point.

“Sooooo,” he says, drawing out the word, “do you want me to take it apart or not?”

Allen is a bottom-line kind of guy and all my attempts at supporting him and not  injuring his spirit have been for naught.

“Yes,” I say. “Take it apart.”

“Well,” says Allen, “all you had to do was say so.”

Mea culpa.