Forgive me. This story is so emotion packed. Its hard for me to keep clear tenses on my verbs.

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I had a car. I had a bad ass car. My dream car. An entry level BMW sedan. The German engineering. The reasonable price. Just enough luxury to make you feel successful but not so nice that you were afraid to have fun with it. Yeah, I loved that car.

It was the first new car that I bought with my own money. That is a story in itself. How I bought the car. I was coming off of military active duty service in Korea so I could buy it using the military overseas auto purchase program. Tax free. Extra discounts.

I had the cash to buy the car straight up. But I arranged for American Express to up my credit limit so I could buy the car with my card. That way I get points on the card. With the purchase of the car, that meant I’d have enough miles to score two free business class plane tickets to the US. Simple enough, pay off the balance on the next bill. Don’t pay any interest. Get my car. Get two free business class tickets to the US.

The salesman didn’t like me using the credit card because it ate into his commission so he told me he couldn’t do it. He told me it was literally impossible.

I already flashed too much excitement about buying the car. He knew I was getting it. He knew he had me. He thought he wouldn’t have to give me anymore concessions to seal the deal.

I said fuck it. I went to the saleman’s boss in Gangnam and told him I wanted to buy the car but I would only close the sale if I could buy the car using my American Express card. The boss called my saleman, within five minutes I was running my American express and arranging the delivery date.

I set it up so the car would arrive on my 10th anniversary. My wife and I had always agreed that we wouldn’t give each other presents. We had always held true to this promise. Actually that promise evolved into something cool. Each year my wife would buy herself something expensive with my credit card, show it to me, and tell me I bought it for her as a present. It was usually some cosmetics or jewelry or a designer purse. Whatever, I was happy that my wife was happy. I even liked this arrangement. One time I got myself a Garmin smart watch. My wife took a little bit of pride when I told her how much I loved tracking my runs with the watch she got me. Lol.

I took off from work early the day the car arrived. Man it was fucking sweet. I felt like the king of Seoul when I drove it home.

I told the kids about the car that night at dinner. Told them it was a surprise. They rushed through their chicken quesadillas. So did I. They rushed through their homework. I rushed through the dishes. We did a speed-dance-hang-up-the-laundry drill together. Normal night, just fast forwarded so we could get to the treat at the end.

I took them down to the basement parking lot so they could meet our newest family member. lol.

The kids like the car but they weren’t as excited as me. They went back up stairs. I stayed with the car. I moved the car up to the parking spot next to our neighborhood cafe.

When my wife got home from work, the kids were ready for bed but I suggested, you know what, hot June night, why don’t we go down and get some shaved ice red bean paste desert from the cafe? My wife was kind of annoyed but she said okay, why not.

We go down as a family to the cafe. My wife sits at the table with the kids. I bring our desert over. I put the new car keys on the tray.

We all take up our spoons and start digging it. I draw my wife’s attention to the keys on the tray. I ask her who’s keys are on the tray. She gives me a look, like, I’m not in the mood for games. I tell her, those are our keys. I tell her I got us a new car for our anniversary.

The kids stayed in the cafe finishing the desert. I took my wife’s hand and led her out to the curb to see our new car.

My wife looked tired. She did not smile. She looked blank, but she gave me a half second spurt of fake happiness.

She apologized for being so distant. She told me she knew how much work I put into getting the car. How much work I put into setting up the event but she just didn’t have it, that mood for celebration. I said I understand. She went up stairs with the kids and I took the car back to the basement.

My wife drove that car to work for the next four years. The only day I drove the car was Sunday, when we took the family to see her mom and dad.

I paid the insurance. I always did the maintenance. I loved my BMW so much. I looked forward to the Saturdays I spent washing and waxing it out in the empty US military base parking lots.

I guess since my wife drove it the most, she figured it was her car.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

The last day I lived in her house. That day. She threw my computer out the window. She was trying to tackle me. She was trying to get into my pockets to take my passport and wallet. She wouldn’t let me take the car.

Down in the basement parking lot, I pressed the unlock button. She got in the passenger seat and I got in the driver’s seat. I asked her to get out. Let me go to the bath house. Let me get a break from her violence. Let me remove myself from the equation for a few days. She refused to get out of my car.

I got out of my car. She got out of my car. I lock the doors. She demands I give her my credit cards and all the money in my wallet. I say no. I unlock the car again. I try to get into the driver’s seat and lock the doors before she can get in.

I get in, she gets in faster then I can lock her out.

We play this back and forth game for a few minutes. The neighbors see. I tell an old neighbor, this isn’t funny. I tell them my wife is abusive. The old man neighbor watches us and laughs.

I can’t believe it, what the fuck would people do if a man was doing this to a woman.

I get in the car. My wife gets in. I have no where to go but I can’t stay here. I gotta move so I can think. Even if she is next to me. I gotta move.

As I drive down the road, my wife grabs my arms and tries to make me swerve into oncoming traffic. I don’t know what earthly explanation could tell us how I didn’t crash my car. The few times I reached across the console and grabbed my wife’s arm, trying to restrain her, she would laugh and look at me and say teasingly, ouch you’re hurting me. I would say you’re fucking legit crazy. Just let me get a few days. I need a few days away from you.

I pull my car up to the main gate of the US military base. I put the car in the visitor parking lot. My wife is punching me and trying to tackle me as I walk to the gate. I show the silver haired female Korean security guard my ID card. My wife doesn’t have her ID card. I have her US Army military card in my pocket. The ID card that got issued to her because I am in the military. The ID that lets her share my benefits as long as we’re married. The ID that lets her buy our groceries, our household furnishings, and her luxury items at a discounted rate. Always using my credit cards at the PX and commissary.

I am cleared to enter the facility. My wife is not.

The security guard is laughing at the scene of this little Korean woman hitting her husband. The security guard is supposed to do something. Call the MPs. Let me in the base. Something. Anything. How about her fucking security guard job. Maybe this security guard could start by telling my wife to stop hitting me.

My wife tells the security guard that I don’t pay any bills in the house. That I’m a dead beat dad. My wife tells the security guard that I should give her the car keys. My wife says if she gets the car keys then she’ll go home peacefully.

The security guard will not let me on base. The security guard tells me I should give my wife my car keys. The security guard explains that if I give my wife my car keys, the security guard will let me on base.

I tell the security guard the car is mine. I am not giving this abusive woman my car.

My wife is sneaking in jabs to my ribs. The security guard laughs each time my wife hits me.

I can’t believe this is real life. It gets more unreal.

I throw my car keys over the fence and into the base. My wife tries to hold me but I break free from her grip. I scoot, shuffle, dance, run, Barry Sanders spin through the gate and onto the base.

I walk away, not looking back but hearing my wife scream and cry that she doesn’t have taxi money to get home. What a joke. She has hundreds of millions of dollars in assets. She can take a taxi home and have the driver wait while she goes up to the apartment to fetch the fare.

I couldn’t go back home after that. I lived in my car for a few days before I decided to stay at the bath house. It was peak COVID so that was a hard choice but I found I couldn’t get to sleep in the car no matter how comfortable those leather seats were.

Then I found a nice goshiwon. They let me park the car out front because the cafe on the first floor was shut down due to the pandemic.

I had a few weeks of peace before my wife came to the goshiwon in the middle of the night and stole my car.

Maybe a month later, my wife crashed the car into a wall. On purpose. The car was totaled.

She paid the tow truck to wreck the car. She tried to set it up so I couldn’t clear the insurance and get the compensation.

I was at the Yongsan police station giving a testimony about some other shit when my wife called me and told me she crashed my car. I had the phone on speaker so the Yongsan police detectives could hear her bragging about stealing my car, hear her bragging about crashing it into a wall, hear the tow truck driver telling me the car was being wrecked. The Yongsan police detectives’ room was a live action witness to my wife’s insane abuse.

The Yongsan police detectives laughed while they listened. After the ten minutes of phone conversations, I looked at the police officers and asked what I should do. They told me there wasn’t much I could do because the lady was still my wife. I asked them what they would do if this kind of shit was happening to a woman. If a wife was being abused the way my wife is abusing me. They didn’t have any answers, they just wanted to get me out of the building. They asked me when my visa expires. I told them in three weeks. They don’t answer anymore of my questions. Just, “yeah yeah yeah. Sorry buddy.” They want me out of their country.

After I left the police station, fucking shit, I am so glad that I am a marathoner. I was running from place to place. From appointment to appointment. Getting paperwork together. Explaining the situation to insurance people, to the salvage yard. And a week later, swam through the nebula of uncertainty, and I finally got the insurance money. The backwards fucked up way, but not the illegal way.

My wife contacted me when she found out I solved the insurance problem. She demanded I give her the insurance settlement to buy a new car. I refused to give her the insurance money. She told the kids that this was just another example of me being selfish.

I used the insurance money from the car to pay my divorce lawyer’s retainer fees.

It’s almost been a year since all that went down but it’s still so fresh. It’s still an unhealed wound.

I don’t think I’ll buy a new car for awhile. Not until I get this divorce so far behind me that I won’t be able to see it in the rear view mirror when I drive away.