There was a time when we had no seat belts, when if we wanted fresh air we
opened all the windows. When power windows meant turning the crank to raise or
lower them, and locking the doors meant holding down the door button while
shutting it. Power meant what happened when you pushed down the accelerator,
the AM radio had five presets, one for you, and the rest for your parents,
except they only listened to one station. We used whisk brooms to remove the
dirt from the plastic floor mats, many cars had seat covers, new or old it
didn’t matter, and white wall tires, if they had them, were cleaned using Brillo
pads. New gas station attendants might ask “where’s the filler?” as it could be
on either side, behind a tail light, or the dreaded behind the license plate,
spring loaded so it attempted to remove your finger if not quick enough. Which
explains many old pump jockeys missing a digit, or the use of one. The only
standardization was that left to the manufacturer, you could still tell a Chevy
small block from a Ford 289, the sound of a Pontiac different than a Plymouth,
and VW’s could be heard wheezing their way from blocks away.
Interiors had colors matched to the exterior, dashes may not be padded, and
all cars, except the VW again, offered seating for six, no matter how cramped.
Three across in the front and rear, with all you had with you in the huge trunk,
with room to spare. Which is where a full size spare was kept, along with a
bumper jack, and we all knew how to use it. Snow tires were put on the rear in
the fall when we winterized the car, and removed in the spring, getting it ready
for summer. The rich people had white wall snow tires, my parents had black
walls, even if the front happened to be white. An owner’s manual was in the
glove box, among the maps, coupons for burgers, napkins, and straws. A pen may
be found, my Grandpa always kept a box of Kleenex there. You pushed the
accelerator twice before turning the key to start. Let it warm up, then drove
off slowly, until it warmed up. We had no right turn on red, so we sat for what
seemed like days waiting, we took driver’s ed. and couldn’t wait until we were
17 and of age. Not so long ago if your memory goes back far enough...
Today the seat belt chimes reminding you, and kids not yet of age must be
in child seats. Who later will freak out if not buckled up. You turn on the
AC, windows only opened on occasion electrically, and the doors locking after
five seconds when programmed. You now have AM/FM/Serius, or CD, takes yer
choice. Constantly searching for what you want to hear. We take our cars to
car washes, where the black or grey interior is vacuumed, the bonded leather
seats treated, and wheels detailed. No hub caps here. A locking gas door hides
a gas cap behind it, no more license plate finger amputations. So many things
are now standard, per NHTSA, that anyone can get in ay newer vehicle and drive
it. Except when it actually comes to driving. Seating is for five, or seven,
or eight, with third row SUV seats, which may not fit in your garage, trunks may
not even have a spare tire, let alone a jack, as there are no bumpers to hook it
on. Call AAA, something no well respected driver would think of. There are
numerous storage compartments for the junk we need but never use, seats that
make it impossible to find the right setting, and we just turn the key, or push
the button and go. Point and steer, a much different time than when we went
driving with our dads.
But the one thing that remains is that we still look out for ourselves.
Cars and driving may have changed, but out attitude towards ourselves hasn’t.
We still like to be in control, to make the decisions, to be the one who is
behind the wheel. Some are naturally born good drivers, some are taught, yet
some are taught at driving school after obtaining the required tickets to
attend. It has been said “there are two things you never criticize about a man,
his love making and his driving. And not necessarily in that order.” Which may
speak volumes about the cars we drive, or don’t. In many ways we are extensions
of our cars, our personalities may emulate them, bold and fast, or slow and
dependable. We all know a VW Bug driver will be different than the guy in the
Mustang GT, driving with my Dad showed me by his comments and how everything,
trucks included seemed to pass us. But when it comes to Jesus, we are told to
be meek, and who wants to be a sissy? A wussy driver? Or drive a wussy car?
Yet God’s definition is different, read as power under control. Not buying
every option available, not burning rubber from every light. Making choices
based on others, not just yourself. And in that, we see a different side of
Jesus, who was meek. Who promises us that is we too are meek, we shall inherit
the earth. But in him we see meekness as taking criticism without resentment,
and praise without being prideful. I wish I could say I was more like Jesus in
that area, as I need to retaliate, to express my opinion, to hold my ground. To
be prideful. We all like to be recognized or praised, and grumble when we
aren’t, but I stumble when I am. I know I cannot do anything outside of Jesus
doing it with me or for me, it is said success has many brothers, yet failure is
an orphan.
Maybe a better understanding of why Jesus never opened his mouth to argue.
He knew his audience, true, but he also knew himself and his father, doing only
what he wanted, that’s meekness. When we were kids traveling with our dads, how
often did you hear them say “don’t make me come back there...” I’ll bet in
meekness Jesus never heard those words. Yet today, we pray “come Lord Jesus,”
and we look forward to his return. How many know he left his spirit, so it is
as if he never left? Maybe a ride or two with our Father in heaven just might
enlighten us.
Do you have to be the quickest off the line? First at the light? Have the
newest and fastest? Yet do you have to park it outside because your garage is
stocked with junk? Clear away some clutter today, let Jesus back in where he
belongs. Garages were meant for cars, our hearts are made for Jesus. Jealous
of your neighbor’s new car? At least my old one sleeps in a garage at night.
Maybe try this, try having an unconcern for ourselves, and an increasing concern
for others. Go beyond the thought process, actually exercise it. Take a step
back to simpler things, where we participated, rather than just pushed a
button. Trust God by showing your love and compassion for others. Knowing that
you can never make Jesus come back here, he wants to. For us. That’s power
under control, that’s looking out for us first. We get confused with his words
sometimes, but never forget his actions. There was a time when we didn’t know
Jesus....”don’t make me go back there.”
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com