Pieces Falling

Bruce had been vigilant about maintaining our cars, but now that he was gone a reliable vehicle was a must.

Before long, colleagues, friends, and family had started the ball rolling to buy me a new car. Squad 41 raised a considerable  amount of money, while other people made contributions in honor of Bruce. Pastor Steve, my financial guy Steve, and Bill—a friend who worked for Chrysler—spearheaded the effort. Before long, I was calling them my “car team.”

Of course, I thought my car was fine. Our cars had always been hand-me-downs, used cars that started with a lot of miles and quickly gained more miles due to long commutes for both Bruce and me.

When asked what kind of car I wanted, I simply said, “Anything but a minivan!”

My car team picked out two cars for me to test drive.

I had never test driven a car before in my life.

As the salesperson handed me the keys, he said, “Drive it around town and let me know what you think.”

I had no idea what to do next.

How do I know if this is the right car?

I’d never had a choice before. It wasn’t in my scope of experiences or expertise.

So, I called my friend JoEllen who lived nearby and asked her to come along. After we drove around for a few minutes, I asked JoEllen if there was something special I should check.

She suggested looking under the hood. When we got back to her house, I parked the car and as I popped the hood, I turned to her and asked, “What are we supposed to look for?”

She said, “I don’t know.”

We stood for a few moments looking at the engine. Silence. I shrugged my shoulders. “Let’s look in the trunk. As least we’ll know if it’s big enough.”

I closed the hood.

We walked to the back of the car, opened the truck, and stared into the trunk.

JoEllen announced, “Looks good to me.”

We both laughed.

In the end, I simply trusted that Pastor Steve and the other men knew what they were doing. All I knew is that I thought this car was the cuter of the two, so I became the proud owner of my first new car, a 2002 Sebring.