When my Grandma started driving again in the early sixties, she bought a used, pink 1955 Rambler American station wagon. From Ronco Rambler Motors, and Pat Ronco, sales manager, janitor, service manager, racer, and the owner. And when she bought her successive Ramblers, a blue 1962 American 2-door, and finally a 1969 Rambler Rogue, she went to Pat, and Pat knew what she needed, and would say "this is the car you are looking for, Mrs. Mohn" and without pushing it on her, he was right. For my Grandma had confidence in Pat. And pat knew his customers. When the car wouldn't start early on Sunday morning in knee deep snow, Pat would come and take care of it. And even when he was into his seventies, he would still respond to my Grandma's roadside request, and other's like hers. To her, he was American Motors. And even though the tag on her car said made in Kenosha, the relationship with the factory began and ended with Pat, he was the factory to her.
My parents bought three cars from Pat, and I can remember going with them on Saturday mornings. An old brick facade, painted silver with red plastic letters, the highlight for me was the shop. The back shop to be precise, and walking past the huge, sliding doors, the smell of old oil, gas, rubber would fill the air, an ambrosia to those of us who liked cars. You see Pat was a jalopy racer, and R-12, his race team, was where the jalopies he raced at Nazareth were kept. Silver and red, like the building, Pat was the factory to Grandma, but was racing to me. He always seemed to be coming from that back room with R-12, and I don't remember ever seeing him not in overalls and with an unlit cigar in his mouth. Somehow behind the overalls and cigars, this man was Rambler. A Ramblin' man if you will.
Just down the road a mile, was O E Labar Hudson. A working Hudson dealer,who never turned in his franchise when Hudson joined Nash in 1954 to become American Motors. He had new parts still on the shelves, and ads in the showroom about the new Hudsons. Serviced his customers like Pat did, and even kept cars on the floor, which he was glad to show me after he found out how much I loved Hudson, too, and wasn't just some kid wasting his time. It wasn't my fault American Motors was formed the day I was born in 1954. "This was Mrs. Roth's car," he would say, "she traded it on a new 1953, that had belonged to Mr. Reimer, who sold it because his wife wanted a convertible," and that was how all his cars were referred to by their previous owners. No units or stock numbers, for his customers, and their cars, were real people to Pat and O E, whoever he may be. From date of purchase, through no start in snow storms until the time to trade up, and then onto its new owners, they were precious customers, and treated with respect. Both dealerships a true anachronism, dealerships that should have died in fifties, but still were alive, on life support, into the seventies. From the factory parts, to the two rare 1947 Hudson pickups he used to haul coal and car parts, to the cars on the floor, he was a Hudson dealer, even if Hudson had died 20 years earlier. Personal service, on a Mr. and Mrs. basis. Signs of a simpler time, a living museum to both Hudson, Nash, and Rambler until both men died, and with them their businesses. Along with a whole generation who were used to service like Pat's. Sadly, no one left to take their place in the communities they served faithfully for so many years. No more deals made on a handshake, or free jump starts in the snow, and only the memories of past super service to share with others.
We are told to trust God, and not lean on our own understanding. A great example found in Pat. I can't tell you about him and God, but his honest attitude to my Grandma and his customers, allowed them to trust him, and stay his customer for life. No way would she ever have bought any other car except a Rambler, and only from him. Their relationship was built on trust, she knew Pat would always give her the right advice. And I find today, that to walk strong with Christ, to call yourself a Christian, takes the same kind of trust. The trust that when you get bad news, that the same God who made the body will heal it. That he knows you when you're sleeping, and awake, and doesn't care who may be coming to town. His love is real, and He wants to be your God for life, and forever. I could never imagine my Grandma questioning Pat's judgment with her Ramblers, but yet we quarrel with God when we don't get our way. "Wait," He'll tell us when we ask, but in our impatience we fret, and only after we disobey see why He said it. "No, my son," gets greeted with a why from us, which really means "don't you get it God?" When really all we need to do is trust God, trust His word, trust the Spirit, and lean on Jesus. For like Pat, He doesn't want to lose you as a customer, and sad many have turned away when they don't get their way. And end up with a lesser god, at an impersonal church or religion, and never enjoy the love and blessings God has for them.
I have heard God is always there when I need Him, and can vouch for that. But will go on to say He is even there when I don't realize I need Him. Closer than even a prayer, He is 24 hour life service, never late, always on time, and always has the right parts and tools to fix my problems. Remember that next time money is tight, or health issues invade, or when your marriage is suffering. He is there for you! Take His advice, for Godly advice only works when taken. And be a frequent visitor to His dealership. Stop by parts, look at the new models, and go to the back of the shop with Him. Behind every old facade once beat the heart of a dealer like Pat. Don't let the facade of the world change your attitude about God. He was there in the beginning, and will be around long after the end. Stay close to Him, He has stayed close to you.
My Grandma always trusted Pat with car problems. Isn't it nice to know that God cares about all our problems?
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com