This is my car.
Can you tell we live on a dirt road?
I really like my car. My son bought it about 4 years ago for $500.
It was all banged up like this when he bought it. The previous owner hit two deer.
It was his car until he moved to Haiti. My husband says that I think my car can do anything. Well, it has done a lot. Just last night we had a kayak in the back, a canoe on top, and three boys (one, almost 6 feet tall) squished in besides. It's all wheel drive. Just what we need in the winter time.
And before he went to Haiti, it was the
hunting vehicle. Here is a picture that says, "The boy needs a pick-up." (Wonder what happened to them hubcaps.)
Well, I was at the farm store the other day buying straw and chicken feed. Of course, I couldn't resist a few six-packs of flowers, too. And when the young man was loading the straw into the back of the wagon he said, "It fits if I put them this way, right?"
"Yes," I responded, "That's right."
"I thought that's what I remembered from last time," he said.
"We're looking for a truck," I said. "Maybe next time, you won't have to fit them in like a puzzle."
"Oh, you don't want a truck," he said. "I have two trucks and they are just gas hogs."
"Oh," I ponder that for a moment. "I'll have to think on that." Actually, that has been a major factor in our vehicle choosing decision--that, and the cost.
So we pull out of there, my two little boys and I all squished into our little car with two bales of straw and 50 pounds of laying mash behind and beside; and cruise slowly through town. Then, when we hit the open road going 60 mph, windows down (the a/c doesn't work), wind blowing hair and straw in our eyes, singing along with Doyle Lawson at the top of our lungs, it hits me--I don't want a truck. I want my little car to last forever.
But there's this clunk in the rear end when you make a sharp turn. And the oil leak. And the constant ticking of a valve going up and down. And that hot smell when you get where you're going. And the fact that most of the time you have to stick a screw driver into this little hole next to the shifter and press really hard, while pressing on the brake pedal really hard, to get it out of park. And the 256,061 miles to reckon with. My husband is getting nervous about it getting me where I want to go.
But I like my little car. And I like its miles per gallon. Besides...it's green.
I know I could come up with several spiritual analogies with this one. Like how my little car is like my little body (neither will last forever) and what matters is the condition of my soul. Of course, my body's not nearly that bad; but I've felt like it with my back out the last 6 weeks. Or how we shouldn't store up treasures on earth where moth and rust corrupt (boy does my little car have the rust). But I'm not going there today. I just want to enjoy my little car while I've got it. And think that just maybe
God will provide me with a new little car to replace it--in His time.