Why I Love My Car

I love it because it was made the same year my father died and served my mother faithfully despite her ‘abuse’ ;-)

I love it because it was given by my mother when I needed it.

It spoke of my mother’s love for me and delivered me safely to Little Rock with my son who needed to go.

I love it because we never owed a penny on it.

Some people say they’ll drive something “’til the wheels fall off. . .” We’ve had two wheels fall off. We just put them back on and kept her rolling.

I love her because she took our family of six all the way to Oklahoma and then to the East coast – with camping gear. What a challenge it gave my husband and oldest son to load her—especially with my extra boxes of books! Her mid-sized-size kept our trip cozy and we got to tell our middle child all the stuff he didn’t hear when he was little. We filled her with sand and Sandy, the crab—and she didn’t mind at all.

I love her because she speaks volume of my husband’s love for me as he faithfully takes her for a drive every morning and afternoon. She isn’t a greedy eater, although she looks rather humble in the lot with his co-workers cars.

I love her because she doesn’t demand a lot of cosmetic attention. When she was hit by an intoxicated uninsured driver, she kept my husband safe and didn’t demand the injured lady to have her fixed. She could have, I’m sure. It makes me feel she’s earned her Jesus bumper sticker, even if some feel His name should only be on more prosperous-looking modes of transportation.

I’ve learned to love popping the door open, and squeezing through the small area free of dented metal to arrive at my next destination.

I can feel the eyes – usually somewhat younger eyes than my own – start to feel sorry for me. I meet their eyes as if to say, “I love this car! It is love from my mama and the man who helped her, hope for my son, and faithfulness from my husband. It is forgiveness from Jesus and my declaration of freedom from the materialist society in which I live. . . .I’m not sure you get it.”

But alas, I hear she hasn’t much longer to live. Her family physician now only approves operations necessary to her survival—and those only if the costs are minimal.

Last time a car died, I felt it not proper to ask the Great Mountain Mover for a little mountain climber ‘cause I had a little stack of greenbacks.

This time – He can send us one if He likes—and may I have that with air conditioning and cruise control please?

As much as I love “her”—she is JUST A CAR—and I still refuse to be sucked into a materialist society that defines itself by what they drive.