I needed a car and didn’t have a dime.

I was young and single, and my income, though working full-time, was below the poverty level. I knew someone who knew a guy who had some used cars, and there was a little car he said was in good shape and he’d let me have it. All I had to do was come get it.

I was in California. The car was in Nevada.

My dad said he’d come with me and help me drive it back to California. Thus began the Great Father/Daughter Road Trip of Insanity. I look back now on the whole escapade and all I can do is shake my head. What in the world were we thinking?!?

The Great Father/Daughter Road Trip of Insanity

We got to this guy’s house/car lot/dump (that should have been our first clue to RUN!), and he showed us the car. It had four wheels and two doors. It was free. That’s the end of the list of pro’s for this car. For some inexplicable reason, we took it. Got the title, the keys, and started the engine (it started!) and drove away. But it was now late in the evening, in Reno, Nevada, and we had nowhere to sleep. Every hotel was full.

My dad and I sat there in that awful little car, in the parking lot of a casino hotel, thinking we would be sleeping all night in that dinky piece of junk. We were both frustrated and hungry, and Dad and I were thinking maybe we should’ve thought this whole thing through a little better. I wasn’t the least bit scared, because he was with me, and I just knew that somehow, we’d be alright.

Dad decided that the car guy was our best hope and we headed back to his house. The guy was kind enough (after some, ahem, insistence from my father) to let us sleep in his trailer for the night. The place reeked of cigarette smoke, and I wasn’t at all convinced that we wouldn’t have fleas in the morning. But by now it was nearly midnight, and our options were zilch. So Dad made sure I was comfortable, locked the door, and then he crashed. Poor man was exhausted and perturbed.

At daybreak, we got out of there fast. Well, as fast as the dinky piece of junk would allow. After a nutritious breakfast at McDonald’s, we plotted our route back to California, prayed for heavenly assistance, and started for the highway.

Then there was smoke. A lot of smoke. And a really bad, burning rubber smell. In the parking lot at a Pep Boys, Dad popped the hood, figured out what was melting, and went inside to get new parts. At this point, I’m pretty sure some colorful metaphors were being tossed out about the car guy.

We looked at each other and had to decide. Is this piece of junk really going to get us back to California, and even if it does, then what do I do to fix it? Why on earth are we even keeping this car anyway?!? But Dad felt sure it would get us back, and then he could fix it up for me. So like fools, we rushed in while I think our guardian angels were calling a few more angels to come along — they were gonna need help keeping us on the road!

For the rest of my life, I have the memory of that crazy road trip with my Dad, and even now, I can’t help but laugh out loud.

It was hot, and the trip was long. But all I remember is that Dad and I just talked, and talked, and talked. We talked about everything under the sun. Important things, and profound things, and mysteries of faith neither one of us could understand. I may not remember the specifics anymore, but I remember the miles disappeared. And we laughed our heads off about how stupid the whole trip was, and how awful that stupid car was, and how idiotic we were for doing it!

And we almost made it, too. We only had about 100 miles to go, and the piece of junk decided to quit. It overheated, and we barely got it on the shoulder of the highway before it DIED. Thankfully, a very good friend was near enough to come pick us up and tow the car. It was taken to a scrap yard, and I never saw it again.

So what was the point? All that time and money and trouble for nothing. I still had no car. But for the rest of my life, I have the memory of that crazy road trip with my Dad, and even now, I can’t help but laugh out loud. It was just so ridiculous that all I can do is laugh! I wouldn’t give back those days, those miles, and that laughter with him for anything.

Maybe that was God’s only purpose all along. Just the experience, and the time together. To talk and laugh and be able to look back now with a smile, and be so grateful that I have a Dad who would go to the ends of the earth for me.

The Road Trip for Dad

This week brings to mind another road trip as well. This one was not taken with Dad, but for Dad.

Last year on March 1st, I loaded my four kids in the van and began driving 900 miles to Michigan to be there when my beloved father died of cancer. I honestly couldn’t tell you how we got there. I don’t know how I drove all those miles by myself. It took two days, and I would swear that my guardian angel did all the driving.

All I can remember is panic that I wouldn’t get there in time and the surreal agony of knowing I was about to lose my dad. The miles went on forever, and time felt like it was deliberately running away from me, to keep me from reaching Daddy in time.

By God’s grace, we got there safely, and also by God’s generous grace, Daddy waited for me. He knew I was coming as fast I could, and I know he waited for me. All my siblings were there with my mother, and finally, I was there as well.

Daddy was at the end of his life’s road trip, and he was almost Home. This time I couldn’t go with him.

A year later, the miles without him are still all but unbearable. But when I remember our crazy adventure, I can’t stop myself from smiling.

I can hear him laughing.