Once again, I was without a reliable vehicle. My grandfather had a car in mind that was not on the same wavelength as my own thoughts concerning new wheels for myself. The bronze 1991 model thunderbird had been my Nana’s last vehicle before she passed away. It had been sitting patiently in the backyard of my Poppaw’s house, just waiting for me to need it. My Poppaw Aubrey had been lonely for my Nana every single day since she left the human world and this particular car he had hung onto mostly because it had been her car. There, along with scattered parts of other automobiles, engines and hubcaps, it had stayed for years. I had looked it over before getting the car that was failing me at present, and turned my nose up as soon as I opened its heavy metal door and the automatic seatbelt propelled forward. THIS was NOT my kind of transportation. Surely, there was something else, ANYTHING else…and in the past, there was, but now, I had no choice. This was a car to get me by and overall, a good car for getting me from point A to point B in my daily routine of my seemingly “sordid” life.
I was stuck in a job and a relationship that would take me another two years to get over, and neither one was going to buy me another car. I was frustrated. However, there was not a way out of accepting this offer, when I so desperately needed a car. So, the deal was made and the title would be put in my name when my Poppaw’s ideal vehicle for his granddaughter arrived in Nashville.
“Goldie” as I not so admiringly named her, moved from Reeds, NC to Nashville, TN in the summer of 2008. She was a two-door machine that was larger than almost any other car I had ever owned. Her massive doors creaked when opened, and shortly after arriving, her thermostat, automatic windows and radio stopped working. Despite this “minor” lack of amenities, her engine was good and she could fly down the road, and I got used to the automatic seat belts. I just had to warn my passengers about them before they got in the car.
As Goldie and I warmed up to each other, she became a character in my life. I hung a cowbell on her rearview mirror as a tribute to one of my many nicknames I had received while at my current serving job. We made it through the summer months, even though I could tell her air conditioning was getting to the point of non-existence. Goldie made what would be her only road trip to Virginia and North Carolina in August and that was her first flat tire. When we got back to Nashville, she got another flat and then it was assessed that she had some major front end damage and apparent rusting on her undercarriage. Quick fixes were performed for lack of money and common sense and I still kept on driving her. Another year would go by before I would begin to realize that I was going to need another car- again.
As 2009 drifted aimlessly by, my own body had somehow coincided with that of Goldie’s. Certain parts of us were great- we had amazing strength we didn’t know existed and definitely had character. However, there was a mess of brokenness unseen to the naked eye in both of us. Yes, Goldie could roll to 60mph in seconds flat and I could work doubles all weekend and still manage to get up (sometime in the afternoon), but we were running on wounded parts that weren’t getting fixed properly. For old Goldie and myself, we were in need of some major repair work by a PROFESSIONAL. We were both getting more broken with every mile and I was completely oblivious to the destruction. By the beginning of 2010, the relationship and job were over, and Goldie and I were hanging on by threads- together.
As it was, Goldie was now completely air condition free and Nashville would have one of the driest, hottest summers approaching. A flood came and pushed me out of my house for the summer, which meant even more time spent in the hot metal machine. For a gal who once loved to be in the driver’s seat, I was relying more on my friends to be designated drivers when I would need to get somewhere that required interstate travel. I became unsure if I would make it from point A to point B. How many times the angels spared me, I will never know, but the risk factor was higher than it had ever been.
Driving Goldie was a chore towards the end of her time with me. I would get in the car and pray that she didn’t fall apart, kind of like the prayers I would put forth about my own body. In the stickiest part of the summer, I would be uncomfortable in my clothes as they soaked into my skin as I drove to work. As much as I disliked driving her, I started to become extremely grateful for the little things- like the fact that I was able to arrive safely at my destination. It was this time that I would begin to learn gratefulness- true thanksgiving for good friends and family.
While I was losing control with Goldie, I started to hand over more control with my own life. Slowly, as I felt the relief from the prayers from family and friends, I started to float back to reality with my own spirituality. Discovering I actually liked suffering- that I was addicted to it- and just “being” was something I did not do well, I realized I was not grateful. I found I was not giving up my suffering to God because I didn’t want to give it up. My problems, including that ol’ car, were a part of my crutch to allow me to stay in the water and drown. I was unknowingly shouting “Hey! Look at me and my crazy life! Aren’t we a sight to behold?” I was making a joke out of my existence because it was the only logical thing for me to do in the state I was in. Talking myself and Goldie into a comical matter was my last reach for control- as well as the first move in my journey to letting go of my beloved pain.
My grandfather, who had had so much pride in me driving old Goldie, became increasingly ill throughout the spring of 2011. He let go of life on earth completely on the year anniversary of the flood in Nashville. At the same time, I had reached a point in my faith that allowed me to let go of a lot of my own pride that had been holding me back from my truest self. I have come to terms with the fact that my struggle will always continue between my love of suffering and my love of the desires I have to accomplish my dreams. Goldie decided to let go too. It was time for all of us. The drive proved eventful and long. The scenery and characters were unforgettable…the road ahead is…to “be”…
The “new” old car is half the size of Goldie- a 2005 Chevy, with four doors and a working a/c and radio…it even has a CD player and imagine this, windows that roll down without me pushing them! The first time I drove it down the road, it was like a burden had lifted from my soul. Despite the vendetta I was sure Goldie had against me for my lack of care for her, the new ride has a lot of livin’ up to do! It has already been named the Little Red Clucker. I will say she has made the road trip to North Carolina twice already, both times to give me a chance to say and sing my farewells to my Poppaw. I know he and Nana both are looking down from heaven today, shaking their heads and saying, “she should have gotten a Ford!”
The drive to be continues…
