With this Grimace:
Quite a likeness, I know. But please, stay with me.
Grimace came to be a part of the Colwell family in the fall of 2009. Craig and I had found out in April of that year that we were going to have a baby. We knew that if God were to bless us with a baby, He would need to bless us with a minivan as well, if we were going to cart all of the kids around. We started doing some shopping around and, as always, got my in-laws in on the van shopping as well. Craig's Dad was always looking for ways to help out his family. It wasn't hard to get him to keep an eye out for a good deal.
One evening, Craig's Dad let us know that he had found a decent van within our price range. It needed a little "fine tuning", so with our permission (and many thanks) Dad bought the van and brought it home to perform the "fine tuning" it so required.
When I saw Grimace, I immediately fell in love. Well, as much as you CAN fall in love with a vehicle. First of all, it was purple (my favorite color). Second of all, it was MINE. I hadn't had a car of my own since that unfortunate incident when an insurance lapse caused my precious "Green Monster" to be hurled into an early grave. But this was my purple minivan. And I loved it. It was fall, so it didn't really matter that the air conditioning didn't work. And the cruise control worked for a little while...at least for the ride home from Windsor. The horn didn't work, but that was no real concern of mine. I tended to lay on the horn a little too much anyway. God could certainly use that to mold me into a more patient driver. Yes, I loved Grimace. And I couldn't wait to get him home.
Caleb was born and Grimace found his true calling: Shuttling around four children and two adults. Grimace took us to the grocery store, to church, to Windsor. All the while, my father-in-law would be shaking his head at us and silently thinking, "I can't believe that van has lasted as long as it has!" I just smiled at Grimace. For he truly held up his end of the bargain.
As time wore on, Grimace started to show some signs of old age. When we first got him, he needed a new fill tube. Of course he needed the occasional brake job, oil change, etc. But then a strut tower went and we had to get that replaced. Then the other strut tower. A belt needed replacing. I remember one day driving Grimace around for work and breaking down in Corning, only to find out that one of the straps that holds the gas tank in place had come loose. But Grimace kept me safe until I got him to a service station. And when we picked him up a few days later, there were no keys in the ignition, yet the radio was on. Grimace greeted me with a song. Ahhh...Grimace.
The rust kept on building and Grimace kept on running. Finally the rear door's handle rusted so much it's starting to come off:
Honestly, I kept waiting for the day when I'd hear a clanking sound and look in my rear view mirror to see that handle skipping across the highway. But, no. It hangs there, by a rust-covered thread.
In the depths of the season we just had that I would barely call winter, Grimace had some difficulty with getting the transmission to get with the program. I would back down the driveway and put it in drive only to coast for a few seconds before Grimace realized that I was actually trying to go forward. It was a snowy day sometime in December when Grimace's driver side window froze up. I would push the button and the motor, through the door, would groan at me, begging me to stop. So, I stopped messing with the window, with an understanding that Grimace would make the window go up if he could. But in his old age, and through the beatings he'd taken as the sole transporter of a six-person family, he just didn't have it in him anymore. And I was okay with that.
And so, winter would be cold and summers would be hot, as the air conditioning never did work in Grimace. Yet, I loved him. He was faithful. He was dirty. But he was faithful.
Alas, the time has come. Grimace must be put to rest. There is no other choice. While I was driving Grimace last night, I was saddened to realize that it sounded like something was about to break out from under me. Craig said from my description, it sounded like the wheel bearings. All I knew was that it sounded like the end. It sounded like death. I told Craig I didn't dare to drive Grimace anymore. It was too dangerous and even though I knew Grimace was faithful and would cause no harm to me or to the children on purpose...it was getting to the point where that might be beyond his control. I told Craig that I felt that it was time for us to let Grimace go.
Maybe it was the fact that Grimace knew that his days were numbered, because we are getting a new van in less than a week. I don't know. But I like to believe that he would have liked to keep on providing our family with love and transportation through many more sweaty summers, and many more chilly (albeit short) winters. I believe he would have...he just can't.
And so, Grimace...I write this blog as a thank you. Thank you for giving our family the means by which to cart around four unruly (at times) children. Thank you for giving me a large place to bring home groceries. Thank you for trips to Windsor and trips to church and trips to everywhere else you got us to safely. And for the ones where our safety was compromised (like the trip to Harrisburg where we broke down at 1:00am on Rte. 15 near the Turkey Farm outside of Mansfield and Heather had to come and rescue us because your brakes locked up), I always knew you didn't mean it. You were doing the best you could, under the circumstances.
Rest In Peace Grimace. You're going to a better place.
Amen.
1 comment:
Grimace has truly been faithful. RIP
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