When My Car Refused to Start, the Planet Sent Me on a Mission

Two weeks ago, on a random Thursday morning, I decided to take a long walk instead of driving.

Not because I suddenly became a sustainability influencer—no o. My car refused to start, and I refused to fight an engine that sounded like it needed prayer and deliverance.

So I grabbed my tote bag (the one with “Save The Earth, She’s The Only One With Air” written on it), wore my crocs, and stepped outside.

The sun wasn’t too harsh, and the air felt fresher than usual—like Lagos forgot its normal attitude problem. As I walked past the junction, three school kids were arguing about recycling.

One of them pointed at a crushed bottle on the ground.

“Recycling is cap,” he said.

His friend replied, “No, my teacher said recycling reduces carbon footprint.”

The third one added, “What is carbon footprint? Is it like footprint but for smoke?”

I laughed, and they looked at me.

I said, “Carbon footprint is the amount of carbon you create from things you do. Like using generators or driving cars.”

The first kid squinted and said, “So you’re walking because you want to save the planet?”

I smiled and said, “I’m walking because my car betrayed me.”

They burst out laughing.

But that short interaction unlocked something in me. I started looking around—really looking. Plastic cups tossed under gutters. Nylon bags dancing in the wind like confused butterflies. Blocked drainage pretending to be swimming pools. Food wrappers abandoned everywhere.

It suddenly felt like the earth was sighing.

As I continued walking, I turned into a quiet street, and that was where I met Mama Teni—the neighborhood plant queen.

Her entire front yard was a mini forest:

– A small greenhouse made from old PVC pipes

– Rows of repurposed plastic bottles acting as hanging gardens

– Compost bins made with reused paint buckets

She looked up and said, “Young man, help me carry that sack.”

The sack was big, but surprisingly light.

“What’s inside?” I asked.

“Dry leaves. They’re for my compost,” she replied.

I said, “Compost? As in food for soil?”

She smiled. “Yes. Food shouldn’t end in the bin; it should end in the ground.”

I helped her empty the sack. She wiped her forehead.

“Young people don’t understand sustainability,” she said. “You all think green living is aesthetics. You think being eco-friendly means posting plants on Instagram.”

I raised my hands. “I’m just walking because—”

She cut me off. “I know. Your car broke down.”

I froze.

“Ma… how did you know?”

She pointed at my face. “You have the same expression of a man whose engine has rejected him.”

We both laughed.

Then she said, “Since you’re stranded, come and water these tomatoes.”

I don’t know how I ended up doing free labor but I agreed.

While watering her backyard garden, I suddenly heard muffled sounds—like crying.

Behind the greenhouse, a teenage girl sat with her knees pulled to her chest.

She looked up, startled.

I asked, “Hey, are you okay?”

She wiped her eyes. “I ruined everything.”

“What happened?”

She sighed hard. “My school project. It’s a sustainability competition. I made biodegradable plates from cassava starch. But they all cracked overnight.”

She handed me one. It looked like a sad pancake.

Then she said something that hit deep:

“I wanted to prove that young people care about the environment too. Now it just looks like we don’t try.”

I sat beside her.

“Can I show you something?” I asked.

I took one of Mama Teni’s compost buckets and scooped some moist compost into a bowl.

“Add this to your mixture next time. It’ll give it fiber and strength.”

She looked surprised. “How do you know that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t. I’m just vibing with nature today.”

She laughed for the first time.

That was when Mama Teni joined us and said, “Hope you’re not spoiling my compost o!”

I shouted, “We’re improving the planet!”

She replied, “Improve it when you finish watering my okra!”

The next day, the girl knocked on my gate holding a small wrapped plate.

She said, “It worked. Because of your idea.”

I opened it—her biodegradable plate looked solid, smooth, and even stylish.

But then her expression changed.

“Um… I came to say thank you because… we’re moving tomorrow.”

My heart dropped.

“Why?”

“My dad lost his job. We’re relocating to Abeokuta.”

Just like that—one random sustainability adventure, and someone who felt like a little sister was leaving.

She said, “But I told my mom I must give you this.”

She handed me a handwritten note that read:

“You made me believe that small actions matter. Thank you for saving my project… and my confidence.”

She hugged me quickly and ran off before I could say anything else.

Two weeks later, Mama Teni came to my gate waving her phone.

“Come! Come and see your impact!”

The girl had won first place in the national “Youth Green Innovators Challenge.”

She was on TV saying:

“I got the final idea from someone who taught me that sustainability starts from small acts… even walking instead of driving.”

I swear I stood there speechless.

Mama Teni punched my arm and said,

“You see? Even your broken car has purpose.”

I laughed and said,

“So I’m like an accidental eco-hero?”

She replied,

“Accidental? My friend, you better claim it!”

And right there, I decided to start a small green lifestyle blog—nothing serious, just simple eco-friendly tips for beginners.

And ironically, that blog is what you’re reading right now.