My First Car

The year started out on a high. I was living in Italy, having one of those grand life changing experiences so important in young adulthood. Unfortunately, that was cut short when I developed a kidney disease and had to return home for treatment. Even though my doctors would not allow me to do any physical labor or play any sports, I got their approval to attend the university on a part time basis and thus started my journey of moving on with life. 


Next on the to-do list was to buy a car! It was 1968 and my budget was $900. I was confident that it was sufficient to purchase a used car in decent condition, and hope against hope, it would be cool enough to help me get a few dates. One evening, Dad and I set off on our hunt and finally found a car we both liked, a 1963 Chevrolet Impala. It was fire engine red with two doors and a red interior. It was a beautiful car. Kind of sporty but not a real sports car. It was fun to drive, and I took great care of it.


One beautiful summer evening I had the chance to go fishing with a group of friends. The weather was perfect, and we were all looking forward to a fun time.


I drove my car and arrived at the lake at about six o’clock but as I pulled off the road at the designated meeting spot, a truck carrying farm supplies crashed into the rear end of my beautiful car and ended that fishing trip on the spot. We were out in the middle of nowhere and the car needed to be towed for repairs (pre-cell phone days, you know). Fortunately, a highway patrolman happened to be passing and stopped to investigate and to help.


I knew this accident was not my fault, but that’s not how the investigating officer saw it, especially after talking to the driver of the truck, a local man from the nearby town. I pleaded my case, but my pleas scattered into the wind, and I got the ticket even though I was hit from behind. The officer called a tow truck for me while the other driver hopped into his truck, and waved goodbye with a smirk on his face.


A week or so later, Dad and I drove back to Heber City, which was the county seat that had jurisdiction over this incident so I could take care of the ticket. I appeared before the judge, and he asked me how I wanted to plead. When I inquired if I could ask a question before pleading, he said no, so I pled “not guilty” and then tried to ask him a question. The judge then said, “I can’t answer any questions! I’ll see you in court.” 


Frustrated, Dad and I walked out of that office with thoughts running through both of our minds about how it felt to be treated that way i.e. on the not so favorable end of the town’s “good ole boy” treatment. When we got home, we hired an attorney, a friend of Dad’s.


Meanwhile, my beautiful car got repaired in Heber City and I was able to drive it home and take it to a body shop for the final finish work. I took it to the body shop the day I drove it home and a week later I called the shop to inquire if it was ready. The shop owner told me that it was ready, and I could pick it up anytime, but he advised me to wait one more day because it had been raining, and it would be better for the new paint to have an extra day in the garage to dry. I agreed and I made arrangements to pick it up the following day.


Later that day this shop owner called me and said, “I have some bad news! There was a fire in the shop this afternoon, and we couldn’t save your car. Your car has burned up and it has been totaled. I’m sorry!” Just like that my beautiful car was gone and all I could do was shed a few tears.


But the story doesn’t end here. A couple of months later I received a summons to appear in the Heber City court for my ticket. I called my attorney, and he said he would check into it. 


Sure enough, the day before I was to appear before the judge, I was notified that the case had been dropped. I paid my attorney the fee he asked for, $5.00 for his telephone call, and felt it was the best five dollars I ever spent.


As I have been thinking about this experience I have thought about life and how there are always obstacles and challenges and setbacks that can destroy us if we let them, or we can choose to accept what happens, adjust to the situation, and move forward.


As our children face their challenges, we should realize that their challenges can be as big and devastating to them as losing my car was to me. But if we work with them, we can help them grow and become stronger and more resilient in the process. We can help them understand the situation and teach them some alternatives that can strengthen them and enhance them as they move forward with their life. 


Let’s remember that perspective when our children face their challenges. Let’s take the time to help them grieve for the loss of their hope or dream, support them as they shed their tears, then help them learn to cope from their experience and teach them how to move forward and enjoy life.