Bruce the Magnificent

 

He hath no form nor comeliness;

and when we shall see him,

there is no beauty that we should desire him.

                                    -- Isaiah 53:2b

           

 

My car, "Old Blue," has 121,287 miles on it, with a cracked armrest, bald carpeting underfoot, and the hardened lava of ancient melted crayons in the back-seat cupholders. But she runs like a sewing machine. So with today's economy, I'm keeping her. A lot of people are thinking that way.

 

'Course, I'm used to having cars with "personality." My first one was "Whitby," a gold '65 Chevrolet Impala handed down from my older sister. It was nerdy, though the radio worked . . . once in a while.

 

My husband's first car was a white '64 Pontiac Star Chief, a barge on wheels. When he turned a corner, the front and back halves of the car were on two different streets. Then he got a yellow Corvair which he dubbed "The Lemon." 'Nuff said.

 

Our neighbor tops us in the "car personality" department, though, with ''Bruce the Magnificent.'' It was an enormous green Buick with a terminally peeling vinyl roof.

 

 

This is what I imagine Bruce the Magnificent looked like, only bigger.

 

 

It had four doors . . . in three colors.

 

Here's why: after a hit-and-run sideswipe, instead of getting rid of the old car, she decided to try to fix Bruce herself. She went to a junkyard and came back with a front quarter and two doors, all different colors and from different model years, and all of which she installed herself.

 

Yes, Bruce was no Car and Driver cover boy. But he could hold 15 friends, and he always started in the cold, when other cars chickened out. Therefore, Bruce bestowed fame and popularity on her.

 

He only got, like, four blocks to the gallon. But gas back then was only 28 cents per gallon. Those were the days! So she could get around for next to nothing. The numbers worked.

 

Since the radio didn't -- work, that is -- she duct-taped an AM radio to the dashboard. Voila!

 

The dome light didn't work, either. So she had a big flashlight that would sit in the front seat. Whenever someone needed light, they'd turn it on. And everyone would yell "DOME LIGHT!"

 

The wipers worked. That was the good news. The BAD news is, they wouldn't shut off. So periodically, she had to crawl under the dash and pull the fuse out. She finally learned to leave the fuse half in, and reach down to turn the wipers off and on at will, steer, operate the pedals - everything except actually see the road. (Minor detail.)

 

When she graduated from high school, her dad sold Bruce to her for a dollar. She loaded everything she owned into him and drove to Chicago.  The weight of the car caused the tailpipe to rest on top of the brake line. So there she was, zooming along at 70 mph on the eight-lane, and suddenly, no brakes. Beads of sweat!

 

Luckily, her buddies were driving behind her. Via sign language, she alerted them. They ran interference for her in the traffic. Using the emergency brake, she managed to pull off and come to some semblance of a stop. 

 

Later, on another highway, she heard this flapping noise, only to look in her rear-view mirror and see what remained of the tattered vinyl roof flying through the air and landing, you guessed it, on the car behind.

 

They all survived, somehow.

 

Bruce ruled the roads for two more years. He finally . . . excuse the expression . . . rested in pieces, after she sold him for a $499 profit. The new owner put the engine into his own car. She likes to think that the Spirit of Bruce lives on.

 

Which it does.

 

What a car.

 

What a ride.

 

Reminds me of a lot of stuff that's important to me: my own body . . . my longtime marriage . . . and that Big Chauffeur in the Sky . . . the One Who really IS magnificent.

 

Ever noticed how the stuff that really lasts, that's really meaningful, that makes you the happiest, is never the shiny, glossy, new, exciting, fabulous stuff like we all got for Christmas this past week?

 

Those things are nice to have. But the things I care about - the things I want more of, in the coming year - are the things that are like Bruce the Magnificent. They're the things that are like God.

 

You know . . . He's the One Who's like Bruce. He's really, really big . . . costs you next to nothing to hang out with . . . has plenty of room for all of your friends . . . always works, in all sorts of weather . . . has endless improvisation skills so He can cope with literally any situation . . . reliable . . . unique . . . unforgettable . . . and always ready, willing and able to get you where you want to go.

 

All you have to do is get in . . . for the ride of your life. †