We just got back from a trip to the beach, a trip centered around a car show.
As a newlywed, way back in the late 1970s, I had no clue that my entire life would involve some type of old hot rod. My dad never cared about old cars – or cars of any kind really. He simply viewed his car as a means of transportation. But my husband has always seen the beauty in the American workmanship that it took to build those old cars and trucks, especially the ones from the 1930s through the 1950s.
Believe it or not, the first time I ever saw my husband, he and two friends were riding around the town square of his hometown in an old ’56 Chevy. Since they were rebuilding this car, only the driver’s seat was installed at that time. So, there he was (the man of no dream I had ever dreamt), sitting in the passenger side of that car in a foldable lawn chair.
Yes, you read that right – a foldable lawn chair.
As he cruised past me, smiling and waving like a king in a parade, one of my girlfriends identified him as Randy Lucius. I distinctly remember remarking to my friends, “I would never be caught dead with that guy in a car like that.”
Well, I ate those words a zillion times over the past 47 years. Along the way, I gladly sat beside “that guy” in countless old vehicles “like that” in every imaginable state of repair, from barely a shell with a motor to his current dream car, a 1932 Ford.
Vintage vehicles have always been a part of our lives.
In fact, we strapped our oldest son, a toddler at the time, into the back of a 1969 Firebird to make our way to MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa, Florida. Since that time, we have bought and sold a wide variety of cars and trucks, each filled with loving memories of our lifetime together.
One winter, things were particularly tough while I was attending college full-time, so, Randy voluntarily sold our beautiful old 1955 Chevy truck to ensure our sons had a very merry Christmas. It had to have hurt Randy a bit, but I do not remember it as a particularly sad day for us because we both knew more vehicles would come, but that moment in time with our kids could never be replaced.
Ironically, a few weeks before he died, our son Chris saw a photograph from that day when Randy sold that truck. It pictured both boys, smiling and playing in the back of that ol’ Chevy, as Randy and another guy (the buyer) backed it onto a trailer.
Chris passed over the picture in an old album, then turned back to it, and paused. He frowned and asked me, “Why does Dad have on his Christmas shirt in the picture? I never noticed that before.”
Before I could muster an answer, he said softly, “He sold his truck for our Christmas, didn’t he?”
I nodded, as he asked, “Why did y’all never tell us that?”
We both sat there with tears in our eyes because there really was no answer as to why good daddies do selfless things for their children – other than love.
I think that photograph may have sparked a family conversation that we had a few days later when Chris urged his dad to use some of his hard-earned retirement funds from his long days at a local factory to go ahead and purchase Randy’s dream car – a 1932 Ford.
Randy protested, reminding our sons and their families that we might need those funds later in life. But Chris was not letting go; he told Randy to look at the dream car as an investment that could be sold in an emergency. He also touched on the fluctuation of the market and several hefty losses Randy had already suffered in his retirement account.
Finally, Chris reminded his father that life was short and that we all knew how hard Randy had worked and sacrificed for us over the years. So, my husband promised to find out about taking his money out of that fund to buy his dream car.
And though Chris never got to see his father behind the wheel of that 1932 Ford, he knew his dad’s lifelong dream was becoming a reality.
So, yes, we go to car shows, and this ol’ girl is grateful to God to sit beside “that guy” she saw so long ago on the town square of a small Mississippi community. Now, every time I take my seat beside Randy Lucius, I think of that car and all the other old cars and trucks that came and went through our garage over the past four decades.
I think about the fact that even when I was too young and too dumb to realize the value of what was right beside me, God knew. He knew that sometimes, the best treasures are hidden under all the wear and tear of everyday life. In truth, He was preparing that treasure of a godly husband and father for me long before I ever even knew I needed it.
But what I think about most as I ride beside Randy in that ’32 Ford is that just like all good daddies, my heavenly Father was willing to sacrifice everything He had – in order for me, my husband, my sons, and their families to have eternity with Him.
And that’s one final ride that I cannot wait to make!
