Humor
Praise God, Someone Hit my Car!
by Jim Shumaker
It was not much to look at – just a pea green 1969 Oldsmobile Delta 88 – yeah, from the era when cars were as big as boats. Even so, it had served me well through four-plus years of college and as my work car after that. What I never suspected is that it would become an object lesson about being careful what you pray for.
Shortly after I was married, the "Green Bomb," as we affectionately called it, developed a fishtail. Even so, a toolbox in just the right spot in the trunk stabilized the backend. Unfortunately any sudden moves would roll the box, and the fishtailing would resume.
So once the old Olds was replaced with a shiny, new, blue Prizm, it was time to place it on the selling block. Considering the condition that it was in, only some high school student looking for his first vehicle might be interested in the Green Bomb. As a result, my wife and I set a selling price of $200. Because of the small profit margin, we decided not to run a classified ad. Instead, we parked the car out on the street and taped a "For Sale" sign unto both back windows with our phone number.
Then we waited ... and waited ... and waited ... and nobody called. To make matters worse, every few day the signs would fall off. Even though we re-taped them, they kept ending up on the backseat. Since our efforts to sell the Green Bomb were failing, there was only one thing left to do – pray to God. Unfortunately in our frustration, we do not ask the Lord to help sell our vehicle. Instead we told Him to just get rid of it.
We did not realize the significance of that slight change of words until three days later when we received a knock on our apartment door. It was two o'clock in the morning, and the world was not ready to see me in my bedtime attire. Unfortunately the incessant knocking would not allow me time to change. So I threw on the closest thing I could find – my wife's housecoat. When I opened the door, there stood a police officer trying to determine if I was a man or a woman. Finally, he said with noticeable uncertainty, "Mr. Shumaker?" I reluctantly confirmed my identity. "Are you the owner of a green 1969 Oldsmobile Delta 88?" I answered affirmatively. Then he looked me over once more and said, "Uh, you better get dressed and come outside."
As I discarded the embarassing female garment, I informed my wife of what transpired at the door. Immediately my wife jumped out of bed, and it became a race of who would get dressed first. Once properly clothed, we ventured outside, and the first thing we noticed was that the Green Bomb was gone. Instinctively we started looking everywhere for it, and soon we spotted it – a hundred feet up the street from where it had been parked.
In the light of the streetlamps, I realized the trunk had been smashed. As my wife and I appproached to better ascertain our poor car's damage, we noticed a trail of broken glass and plastic leading from the Bomb's last known position to where it now sat. Our broken taillights could not account for the amount of debris that we surveyed, so whoever hit the Oldsmobile left quite a bit of himself behind. Then out the midst of all that clutter, an object caught my wife's eye. She walked over and picked up a Chevrolet emblem. With a sense of victory, she announced, "I think I know what make of car you're looking for."
The officer dutifully collected the evidence and pointed out that the skid marks did not start until after the point of collision. Furthermore it was obvious that those marks were made by my car. As best as the officer could determine, somebody plowed into the back of the Bomb full speed without even braking. Also we discovered that as the suspect fled the scene, he left behind drops of oil and antifreeze. The Policeman quickly jumped into his squadcar and sped off to follow the trail. About an hour later, he returned, and sure enough, the officer found a wrecked Chevrolet. In fact, the owner's mouth was still smashed up and bleeding from his encounter. Caught dead to rights, the driver had no choice, but to take full responsibility for the accident.
Amazingly, the Green Bomb was still drivable, so we obtained a couple estimates at the request of the Chevy owner's insurance company. As expected, both repair shops declared the old Olds to be a total loss. By now, we realized that God had literally answered our prayer. Little did we know that by asking God "to get rid" of the Green Bomb, we actually were giving Him creative license.
When we informed the other guy's insurance company about the estimates, they asked us if $600 was a fair price for the car. Suppressing my excitement over getting three times more than I expected, I calmly replied, "That'll do." Then came the biggest surprise. The customer representative asked if we wouldn't mind salvaging the car for them, so they wouldn't have to pay a towing service. So I took the Green Bomb on one last drive to the closest junk yard and got another $50. All we wanted was a buyer for our car, and instead, the Lord used this opportunity to show us how He is able to do exceedingly, abundantly above all we could ask or think.
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Green Bomb: $200 How the Lord "sold it": Priceless....You do realize how hard it is to type with this size grin on your face, don't you? What a story!
i love the house coat part. :)
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