It's almost 10 years old and topped 150,000 miles earlier this fall. It's cluttered and unwashed (which is normal) and now smells like an oily machine shop (Bonus!)
But it's home in my garage again. And it starts. And it drives. And I'm very, very happy because I really wasn't ready to say goodbye to it quite yet.
It's silly to feel an attachment to a car. Especially to a car I once argued we shouldn't buy because it was too expensive and I'm a cheapskate. But Jeff really wanted it. "It's probably the only time in my life I'll ever be able to buy a new car," he said.
And he'd just returned from an overseas deployment, and I was so happy to have him home that I said, "Fine, dear. We'll get it. Even with the heated seats, which is absolutely a luxury we don't need."
But then somehow I ended up being the one to drive it most of the time. And soon I was asking why we hadn't splurged to get the heated steering wheel, too.
This car brought us to the hospital the night AJ was born, and brought our new family home a few days later. (I think it also provided our transportation when Sydney was born, but between the labor pains and subsequent sleep deprivation, I can't remember for sure.)
But what makes this vehicle the most special is what it taught me in the last two weeks: to trust that God is always watching over me.
The adventure started two weeks ago. Driving home from work, I was focused on stopping at the school to register AJ for hockey. Suddenly the car started making a weird noise. It wasn't the radio or anything rattling in the console. I hit the gas and the noise got louder. I hit the brakes and it got a little quieter, but not much. Just as I reached the main intersection in town, I braked to stop and, boy, did the car ever stop. The battery light came on and something - either smoke or steam - started billowing out from under the hood.
I jumped out of the car, reaching back in to turn on the hazard lights and grab my cell phone. Almost immediately, (either the first or second car to come upon me) a random stranger stopped and offered to help push me out of the intersection. Before he had a chance to do that, by wonderful coincidence, my next door neighbor happened to show up in his tow truck and asked if I needed a lift. Then, while he was busy hooking up my car, AJ's old hockey coach happened to drive by and stopped to see if I needed help. Who has luck like this?!?
As he drove me home, Cory theorized it the problem was a serpentine belt, something he'd be able to fix that night. But a short time later he called with the bad news. It wasn't that. He suspected the engine was shot and offered to tow it wherever we wanted for a second opinion. He also offered to let us use their spare car until we figured out what we were going to do.
My mind was still reeling trying to figure out how we could afford two car payments, but I gratefully accepted his offer.
Meanwhile, Jeff got on the phone with our other neighbor - the one who works at a car dealership and helped us buy our minivan. Tim immediately offered to start looking for a used car for us. And then asked if we'd like to borrow one of their cars.
Again, I ask, who has luck like this?!? We are so blessed to have such good neighbors.
My mind continued to race. We'd just ordered carpet to replace what our old cat had damaged. It was scheduled to be installed the following week, but I was wishing we'd waited another week so the charge would go on the following month's credit card bill. And we'd just bought tickets to see Don Rickles perform at Mystic Lake. Add up the cost of the tickets, hotel stay, dinner and drinks and it'd probably be a $300-$400 evening.
And that's when I noticed the message light blinking on our phone. Voice mail message #1 was from the flooring place, apologizing that the carpet we'd ordered was on back order and we'd need to push back installation by a week. Voice mail message #2 was from the Mystic Lake box office, regretfully informing us that the Don Rickles performance and assuring us we'd get a full refund.
At that point I knew we'd get through this.
Over the next few days, talking with friends and colleagues, we heard about a place that fixes engines, and got an estimate for a used engine: $2,300. Meanwhile, we talked with Tim next door and asked about the trade in value for the car. As it - $100. Get it fixed - $2,400.
Could there be a more obvious sign from God?
Despite this, when Sunday rolled around, I considered cutting back on our normal offering amount. I knew we'd be cutting back on everything else, and tried rationalizing in my mind that it'd be okay. But I couldn't quite justify it and so wrote out the check for the normal amount.
The next day, Cory towed our car to the repair shop. Later that afternoon, I got a call from them asking who'd told us the engine was the problem, because the car started right up for them. It no doubt had serious problems, but it wasn't the engine.
The next day (last Tuesday) they ran whatever diagnostic tests they do and determined the frost plug blew out, damaging the starter in the process. The head gasket also was shot. But bottom line... estimate for repairs was $1,200. So in the space of a week we went from needing a new car, to a $2,300 repair, to the relatively bargain priced $1,200 fix.
And today, when at last the car was ready to be picked up, the final price was $1,143 - and they'd changed the oil and done a few other things as part of that total cost.
Did I mention all this happened during the relatively calm few weeks in between soccer and hockey? God will not give us more than we can handle. If ever I need a reminder, I just have to take a drive. In the car that I'm so thankful to be able to continue driving.
No comments:
Post a Comment