Last month while visiting family in Oklahoma, one of our missions involved recovering David’s dearly loved, sadly battered 1967 Pontiac Firebird. Because we’ve been hither and yon for our entire marriage, my parents kindly let him store it on their property. So after years of not being used, it needs a lot of TLC.
But that’s nothing new. As a teenager, David helped his dad refurbish the little hot rod, and it became his get-around-town dream machine. David also drove this car when he wooed my fresh-faced, eighteen year old self, and we have endless memories tied to it (ahem). But honestly, most of them are straight up hilarious. For example, sometimes the heater didn’t work and the convertible top wouldn’t close in the winter. Then there was that time we were cruising around our college town, and crack! the front passenger wheel just up and rolled away.
That was slightly more embarrassing than riding with the top down in chilly December.
Yep, this car is crammed with a trunk full of memories, and David hopes to pile on more still as he re-refurbishes it with our boys. But before this could happen, we had to get it home. And the best way to haul a broken down muscle car from Oklahoma to Colorado?
Hire a car hauler.
But if your car is located just off a single lane country road, you may be overcome with a desire to apologize profusely to the poor fellow who must drive his rig in reverse for half a mile to reach it.
But reach it he did. And as David and the truck driver loaded up the Firebird, my two sisters and I couldn’t help but crack up at the contrast between the firebird and other cars. We may have even busted out a little Sesame Street action.
One of these things is not like the others…
Five shiny new cars and one decades from new.
New cool vs. old cool.
And while I take in the scene before me, I realize I can look out my kitchen window or into my computer screen and sometimes feel like the worn-out Firebird. Everyone is current and relevant, and I’m out-of-date. Everyone drips with cool, and my wheels just roll into the wild blue yonder.
I’m unpolished, my cover a bit torn and stuck in the down position.
But then again, I remember it’s the gritty unpolished that often holds the most fascinating, hilarious, delicious stories. It’s the dearly loved and worn-out real I want to scoop up like Blue Bell ice cream. It’s the real you and all your around-town stories I want to sit shotgun with. It’s not a matter of cool, it’s a matter of real. Real is always cool.
And it’s not a matter of age, it’s a matter of heart.
And a matter of not being afraid to share bits of yours, wobbly wheels and all.
Thursday we resume our out of the blue series! Remember, a specific prompt will no longer be given by me. That means you can write about whatever little surprise the Lord blesses you with and in whatever fashion you choose. I’d be thrilled to have you join in and share a surprise, or rather how God used something right out of the blue to build your faith, give you joy, or encourage your heart in the midst of your day. Can’t wait to read your stories!
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