Ranking Things: Cars, Good and Evil

As mentioned in the previous post, Julie and I made a never-before-done-as-a-couple major purchase a couple of weeks ago: we purchased a car...rather, a vehicle. I hesitate to call it a "car" because it is a (gulp) SUV. Granted, it is a Honda CRV (a parishioner called it a Half-UV the other day)...but it is still (as the Rev. Dr. reminded me) something that I gave him an exceedingly hard time about buying nary a year ago. I, of course, blasted him with the "Soccer Mom" and "Kiss Your Manhood Goodbye" comments...never knowing that I was predestined to move into a glass house in mid-2007.

You see, out here in Colorado we have a little thing called "snow," and this past winter we had a whole heckuva lot of it. Needless to say, the 1997 Honda Accord and the 1997 Toyota Tercel, while formidable in their own ways (well...no...that's a lie), are not what you would consider "rugged" or even "snow-functional beyond 5 inches." Changes needed to be made...and so we looked into something with 4-wheel drive, that could fit more than 2 people, and didn't drive or use gas like like a front-end loader. Enter the 2002 Honda CRV (As pictured above, only dark blue).

I'll be the first to admit that I'm now well through my dinner-sized helping of crow. We really like the car; it handles well, gets decent mileage, and is comfortable. But as we prepare to put our two-door Tercel up on Craig's list, I can't help but sigh a bit that we're selling our dependable, gas-sipping, bandbox of a car for a Yuppie Chariot. And so, as an attempt to justify myself, I give you two short lists:

Top 5 Cars That Would Destroy My Soul/Will To Live

5. The Urban Pickup
One of my new favorites here in Colorado. We have a guy on our street with a Chevy that could flatten our house...dual "Dooley" back tires on the back, massive clearance, dual exhaust, and a cab that must require a smaller car to get up into. I would place it's origin somewhere in the late 90's...and there's not a scratch on the thing. It is always perfectly washed, even has mud flaps for that oh-so-muddy trip over to Hays Market. Meanwhile, the real farmers and ranchers around here are trying to find two pennies to rub together as they struggle to keep the 1984 Silverado going.

4. The PT Cruiser
Let's call it what it is: A minivan rolled in a mid-life crisis that is really nothing but a hatchback with bad aerodynamics. In other words, the new Gremlin.

3. The Minivan
I know, I know...I have a friend who just bought one, other friends who have owned them forever...and, yes, I know, they have V-8s with some pick-up. Yes, I know that some of them have DVD players. Yes, I am quite aware that they are exceedingly functional for large families. But the fact remains: It's a minivan. You don't get to watch the DVDs as you drive....and, at the end of the day, V8 or not, you are driving a small bus.

2. The "Extended" SUV
I get the logic here. I don't want to be un-cool in a minivan, so I'll buy a 4-wheel drive minivan. The problem is that these things are high-clearance, barely-converted tractor trailers that crush anything in their path. When I'm driving around in the Tercel, and I see a Yukon or Expedition merging without looking, I see my life flash before my eyes. These things are impossibly huge...and getting larger. Plus, after looking at some mileage reports while Julie and I were looking for a car, well, geeze. Instead of a little "Unleaded Fuel Only" sticker on the gauge, they should have a government warning label that reads: "You...yeah, I'm talkin' to you...you are why we are dependent on foreign oil. Thanks for that."

1. The Hummer
The unholy spawn of all of the above. Take three parts "status-mobile," four parts "I'm a real man...really," two parts "I want to run over anything that gets in my way," nine parts "hey, it's not a minivan," two parts "gas is like my line of credit, right...it won't ever run out," and there you have it. The ultimate driving machine.

So what, you might ask, would I get if my family rendered the CRV insufficient? Two words: Station. Wagon. Yeah, you heard me. Let me throw another couple at you: Wood. Panelling. There is a family in our church with three kids that has a Chevy Caprice Classic wagon with wood panelling...it even has the extra backwards-facing seat for extra family bonding/nausea. Spectacular.

Now...so not to end on an overly-critical note:

The 4 Greatest Cars I Have "Owned" or Driven Extensively

4. The Red 1997 Honda Accord (a.k.a. "The Old Kentucky Shark")
Still in active service, this car is most notable for it's Cal Ripken like ability to keep going out there every day. Has weathered five-plus moves, a handful of baseball trips, daily commutes in KC and here in CO, and me nearly ripping the front bumper off on a parking island. Is starting to show some signs of old age (it "wheezes" if you idle with the AC on), but is still punching the clock every day.

3. The mid-to-late 80's White Pontiac Bonneville (a.k.a. "The White Beast")
A warrior-poet of a car. Passed down from my sister, the Bonneville initially functioned as one of the first cars I drove after getting my license and later served a tour of duty as my school car. I never had a problem with it (which, for a Pontiac, is nothing less than an act of God). The car served our family well...and was given away at or near 200,000 miles (again...divine intervention for a Pontiac). It continued to drive, somewhere down in Louisiana, for a while. I like to imagine that it is still going...pushing 500,000 miles...saving orphaned children as it drove through the eye of Katrina and pulling "one-armed-Jessies" into the new millennium. Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if it is.

2. The Gray 1989 Oldsmobile '98 Touring Sedan (a.k.a. "The Enterprise")
My first car. An unfittingly posh automobile for a Sophomore in college, the Olds featured leather seats, cigarette lighters for every passenger, a strange/cool center shifter, and an iron will. It was an "old-man car" forced into the role of college car. The Olds made it through three unobservant backing incidents, multiple brake reconstructions, and once drove from Kansas to Nebraska with a massive deer-inflicted dent down its left side, inspiring awe from all who drove by. An excellent road-trip car with a primo engine...I drove it hard, and died hard. It met its end, suddenly and violently, via a timing chain in a Target parking lot in Olathe.

1. The Blue Pickup
Recently promoted to "Iconic" in my mind's eye. The seminal mowing vehicle of our family's vast yard maintenance empire. A manual-transmission, wood-bed, rust-damaged, powerhouse of a truck that provided years of enjoyment, even in the midst of work. Once took a full-on blow from a Chevy Citation without giving an inch. Powerful engine was more than able to throw Marcy out the back while she was dumping grass. Whether completely covered in Little Debbie wrappers or destroying the Andersons' mailbox thanks to over-zealous ice-driving, the Blue Truck took on all comers. "What you did was so amazing," indeed. Dad sold the Blue Truck for a runner-up on this list (The Brown Chevy Scottsdale), but it will never be replaced.

And so I place the CRV somewhere between these two lists...a needed compromise that sticks my toe into the chilly waters of the yuppie/grown-up pool. I'm optimistic, though, because above all else what makes a car great are the stories...and I know there are more of those to come.

Divine Timing

Well, now that was something. I have had a whirlwind two weeks here that have consisted of the following (not necessarily in this order):

A long-time member of the church passed away (funeral on Wednesday).
I was asked to preach for the Presbytery (Saturday).
I am the "leader" of a Family Camp this weekend at our Presbytery's camp.
Julie and I purchased a new (to us) car.
My parents (and two nephews) visited.
It was my lovely wife's birthday.

That, friends, makes for one whale of a fortnight. In the midst of all of this, I had probably the most difficult day, emotionally, of my life as a pastor so far. Wednesday's memorial service was emotional for me (I am starting to realize that these get harder the more I actually know those involved), and so I arrived at home exhausted around 4:30. The phone rang. It was a woman who needed help...and lots of it. Through a terrifying set of circumstances stemming from cancer, she has been left without work, income, physical strength, or hope. I drove over to her home.

I walked in the door to find the accoutrements of faith all over the walls, the dresser. Crosses, books, Bibles, frames of her family saying "God loves you...and so do I" around them. But she sat at the table...crying. I asked, "What's wrong?" It took an hour and half to answer. I sat there as she cried and cried and cried...stories of weeks spent looking for work, stories of family apathy, stories of being turned away time and time and time again. It just poured out of her. I sat, mortified...no idea what to say. She finished by asking, full of hurt, "Why does God hate me so much? Am I being punished?"

I wanted to run and hide. I wanted to run and hide because, ultimately, I couldn't blame her. I have those same questions about why she is suffering. I wanted to know why, too. We sat for what seemed like a long time in silence. Then I muttered something like:

"You are not alone. You are loved. By God. By me. By the church. We care about what happens to you. See, we get together...in all our fear and hurt and doubt...because we know we can't do it on our own. We need God...and we need each other.”

Then I showed her Isaiah 40 and Ezekiel 37, explained their contexts a little bit, and drove home...feeling shaken and completely inadequate. Wondering how much of my faith is contingent on my car, my nice house, my health, and my all-in-all favorable circumstances. I didn't sleep well...so I rolled into the office early, anxious about my impending sermon for a house full of preachers.

But I sat in my chair...tired, sad...and didn't feel much like a preacher.

On that morning and the next morning, two things rolled in through the mail. The first was a simple, wonderful, completely pointless card from a good seminary friend that caused a long, hard chuckle and a good dose of therapy along with it. The next day, as I pondered my Wednesday encounter and I tore my hair out trying to compose an IMPRESSIVE sermon...the following bit of prophetic intervention showed up via another wonderful friend:



Spectacular. And with these two seemingly random, silly gestures I was, at once, reminded of two wonderful truths:

That God still wants me, not some super-pastor. God, even with all my scars and limitations and hurts...even in my "Scottness," can share the hope and love of Christ in and through me.

And that it is community, even across thousands of miles, that best demonstrates that love and gives us hope, encouragement, and perspective when we need it most.

The Glass Half Empty

Julie and I were at home watching the news the other night, when back-to-back new pieces nearly blew my mind.

The first, titled something like "The Consumer Pinch" had the usual news lead-in: "Americans work hard to get by every day...well, now there's a growing concern that hits home in a way that reaches each one of us..." Cut to a story about rising milk and grocery prices. They lead with the statistics first...how milk has gone up nearly twenty cents a gallon, with other staples following the lead. Groceries on the whole are up. They interview a couple of store goers who are concerned about the high cost of milk. Now they cut to the chase. The culprit? Rising corn prices brought on by the production of Ethanol. The report then draws on a talking head from Iowa State University who gives the "doomsday" prediction that corn prices are going nowhere but up as Ethanol production increases. The reporter, chagrined by this information, makes a standard final comment bemoaning that there "is little relief in sight from the American consumer."

The next story? America's crisis of high gas prices. Now, I don't know if some terribly ironic genius put them back-to-back to make a point or if it simply went over their heads. It was your trademark run-of-the-mill "Why are gas prices going up?" story where the reporter interviews the lady who is "suffering" by spending $125 to fill her TankUV so that she can drive it, by herself, to work in Orange County. This particular report did actually touch on the whole supply-and-demand logic that I haven't seen much (the prices are going up because we will pay them)...but the majority of the report was spent simply bemoaning high fuel prices with no mention of carpooling, bicycling, walking, or simply buying a vehicle that won't be confused with an aircraft carrier.

It blew me away. The first report, through a simple change in sequence and narration, could have been an exciting report on the increase of Ethanol production and consumption in the United States. You could absolutely include the hard fact that yes, groceries will go up as corn goes up, but what about the benefits? If you asked everybody outside of the supermarket to give thirty cents to help farmers and reduce our dependence on fossil fuels, I bet they'd be all over it. But here, instead, we get Ethanol as the enemy. It's taking money out of your pocket, America! And then, to top it all off, a report detailing the astounding amount of gasoline this country alone burns through in a day. In the past few days, I've heard more reporting on this "grocery crisis," and few take them time to mention the benefits of Ethanol.

You can probably tell by now that I'm not the biggest fan of the mainstream news media...but it's becoming something more than their truly amazing ability to make decent human beings want to kill each other by polarizing them politically. The more I watch, the more I am discovering that whatever they do...be it telling you how "liberal" or "conservative" their untrustworthy counterparts are, be it sending Matt Laurer to third world countries to show us how cute poor people are, be it Bill O'Reilly milking human tragedy to look more noble...it's all about selling you Pledge, the new Dodge Stratus, and a crate of Lunchables. It's all about the money. And they're not dumb...they know that the way to get us to watch is to appeal to what we want...that very same money. And so stories don't focus on increasing Ethanol production or how to change our habits when it comes to consumption...they focus on the regrettable, but relatively minor side-effect of rising grocery costs and the long, slow whine of a rigidly gas-addicted culture as they fill up their Hummers.

And so I'm taking a media break. I'm tired of TV and radio news. I'm tired of hearing about how Liberals/Conservatives want to eat your children and destroy the world. I'm tired of problems without solutions. I'm tired of all the crises. I'm tired of all the blame. Most of all, as I learned the other night, I'm tired (and discouraged) by the fact that this is, ultimately, what we evidently want. Myopic, self-centered, blame-passing news about the one place and the one thing any of us seem to care about:

Our checkbooks.