What will the kids of today remember when they attend an old car show in
10-15 years? Will they get all excited about an Explorer their Mom used to take
them to soccer practice in? Will they remember the mini-van that carried them
all on that fateful summer vacation with fond memories? Will they get attracted
to the older neighbor’s sedan, thinking someday I’ll own one just like it? Or
do they look forward to driving a hybrid just like their peers will by then?
And will they gaze at any gas powered car and remember the good old days? My
parents drove on like that. Makes us take some time to ponder and think, about
when we were their age, and our automotive expectations. And also how memories
get skewed as the years pass.
I am blessed to attend many old car shows, and it always seems the crowd is
gathered around the Tri-five Chevies, natural enough. A GTO Judge, 442, Boss
Mustang, or Chevy Impala SS all get equal time when viewed. But of late I find
myself more attracted to the station wagons and the four door sedans. For that
is where my true memories lie. Sure I had friends or knew of guys who owned
cool cars, Tom Jackson, Scottie’s brother Doug’s best friend and his 1962
Corvette, Richard with his 442, Glenn with his GTO, Roger with his Olds Cutlass,
and Mr. Brannon with his Mach 1. I was familiar with them and even recognized
them by the sound they made coming up the street. Enough to make me stop and
run to the window, or pause for 5 minutes while cutting the yard. Dreaming that
someday that would be me, and my car. My first ride with Lucio at 120 in his
Trans Am. Barry’s fast AMX. Jay J. in his 69 SS 396. All cool, and all within
reach of my dreams. But they only occupy a small part of the memory bank, as
they were other people’s cars, not mine. So the memory input is limited, with a
lot of film left on the roll to develop. So now as I remember old times, and
old cars, I look at the sedans, station wagons, and more Ramblers than Fords.
For that is where my time was spent, and so more memory photos were taken
there. I remember taking my driving test in my mother’s 1966 Rambler Classic.
What a humbling experience, but hey I’m driving, and the newly installed 8-track
would drown out any insults I would get while driving by. The Pinto that took
seven of us to the shore, in the rain coming back. 90 degrees, 100 humidity,
and 100% vinyl interior. With the windows up and no air. Bet you never heard
the Beach Boys sing about that. Even though it was a deuce coupe, well at least
it had two doors. I remember sitting on the tail gate of my Dad’s 1962 Rambler
American station wagon passing out our baseball uniforms. Rides in my Grandma’s
old 1960 Rambler, then her 62. My Grandpa breaking the mold with his 1959 Buick
Electra with the red leather interior. And my Nana with her 1967 Buick
Skylark-even had a rear speaker. How cool was that on the way to the DDB for
ice cream? And so most of my memories are more normal and unromantic than we
care to remember.
But then along came motorcycles, and no one in my family rode, although at
80 years old my Grandpa wanted to learn, only deterred by my Grandma. But the
cars we seem to ogle at the shows, and the memories reproduced of are our dreams
and visions. And so it is perfectly normal for the next generation to like an
SUV-the recent generation’s station wagon, or a mini-van-which I refuse to buy,
and avoid any chance I get to ride in one. Pure function, no form. Oh and it
has four wheels. And so I spend time in the back row at car shows, seeing
things today as I did 40 years ago, my memory intact, just a little jaded by
desires never fulfilled. And today still priced out of my reach.
Within any circle of friends there are leaders and followers. Some who
just hang on, or get by on other people’s dreams and accomplishments. Sadly I
meet from time to time those who brag about God, but on other people’s
testimony. They have none of their own, or think the don’t, and are so absorbed
in others they live with God through them. Because they never led a crusade
like Billy Graham, or sang on stage, or even shared Jesus with anyone, they feel
inferior. They are the station wagon whose only purpose was purposeful, but
never got the blessing. While the fancy teacher got all the attention. But God
wants it personal, and doesn’t regard one as better, or more important than the
other. He is nor respecter of persons, titles, positions, or wealth. Who you
know will not impress Him, He loves you the way you are. The rest is left up to
us. Who do we want God to be in our life? To some He is just there on Sundays,
and a memory of Easter, Christmas, and maybe a Thanksgiving visit to church.
Grumbling all the time about how they don’t need church, it is filled with
hypocrites. Just like them. But some choose all of God, and pray daily. They
attend Wednesday night to be refreshed, and even a Bible study. They desire
fellowship with other believers, and they are known by others as people who love
God. They have the title Christian. They may be a four door sedan, but their
life is as exciting as any red 442 convertible, top down on a sunny day. They
burn rubber in their spiritual life, not on the street. And many testimonies
they share are of one on one miracles, that we can never get enough of hearing
of. A daily grind of Jesus, not just a quick trip around the block. A roll of
film full of memories, with more awaiting.
It may be the muscle cars of our youth, the unobtainable that gather the
attention and high prices today, but it is the day to day memories of life we
treasure most of all. Even more precious when Jesus is in them. If your life
seems dull, ask God to add some life to it. Roll down the windows, and stick
your head out the window, and find out why dogs like it, no matter how far or
how fast. The same air felt with the top down-well, not quite the same. But
you get the idea, life is what you choose it to be. So choose it with Jesus.
Every day a ride with the top down, and like BH’s 1967 Cadillac, at 60 mph with
the top down you never feel the rain. Step out of the mini-van and dare to be a
hot rod. Better yet, ditch four wheels for two, because no matter what you are
driving, it will never be a motorcycle. And any other experience that isn’t
your testimony to tell will never be as fulfilling as one on one with Jesus.
Today is the day we make memories that we will remember tomorrow, and cherish
and share with others. Fast only lasts a few seconds, but the real action is
like in the back seat, the cars in the back row. Just don’t let your memories
die there. Not every car is memorable, but the times spent in them, like time
spent with God is memorable. It’s that personal. Make a testimony today.
Remember, it’s your testimony, not mine.
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com