Story Of My Life

“She told me in the morning she don’t feel the same about me in her bones…”

 

If cars could talk..

 

“Hi, my name is Bruce. I am supposedly named after Bruce Wayne a.k.a Batman. A superhero I am not, but don’t tell my owner that. She seems to think I am as good as any Batmobile ever constructed. I remember the first time she spotted me at the car lot in Middletown, New York. She knew I was the one and my engine revved a little quicker at the thought of driving home with her. After our test drive together, I overheard her tell the salesman she could pick me up the next day. It still baffles me that she selected me over the other models. I had been a “loaner” my while three years so what did I know about love at first drive?

Our first year in Goshen was special. She took me everywhere, and took good care of me too. I was a little concerned about the way she handled me, especially at night. She never wore her glasses and I was scared for my life a time or two. I had heard stories from friends about crashes and wrecks, and wanted no part of that lifestyle. It was bad enough we had to ride through Hurricane Irene together. I did my best to stay on the road and above the water. And then there was the time she not-so-brilliantly decided to drive to work in an ice storm. She must have been nervous because she turned around and landed in a ditch. My wheels were too weak to escape the slick black ice. I didn’t leave her stranded though. I eventually pulled her out of there, but she had to keep stepping on my brakes and accelerator. I thought for sure I was going to need outside assistance.

One time, I hit a deer on Goshen Turnpike. I hear this isn’t so rare for cars driving in that area. The deer survived. Our trips to New Paltz were also intriguing. She would sit inside me and study if we arrived early. A stranger tried to get in me one night after her late class. She was so bold and forward, approaching him and declaring to him that this was HER car. I was so proud, but also kept thinking to myself how silly for a girl to approach a man trying to open her car door. It turned out to be an honest mistake by another tired student.

Yep, we had some great memories. I have taken her on trips and job interviews. Sometimes she would pray and a time or two, I even heard her crying. She kept a box of tissues in my back seat for these occasions. A few years back, she informed me she was moving to Texas. I was up for the trip, until I realized we would not be taking the drive together. She dropped me off with a car transport company and accidentally left a can of hair mousse in my back seat. Hair mousse? In Texas heat? What was she thinking? I know she thought the can would explode, blow out my windows and leave fresh smelling white mousse all over the backseat. I surprised her though by being my reliable self. It did earn me the nickname “Moosie Brucie” from my peers. I never will live that one down. Austin, Texas has been my home the past two years and it’s a little extreme for my black exterior. I am started to fade and rust. The friends she allows to see me have started making comments.

My owner has had some interesting guests ride along. Her sister is always a good one because she is sarcastic with me. I think she secretly adores me though. She has this guy she really likes now too. He sings all the songs I play, so he’s okay in my book. He always tells her to “drive safe” and occasionally carries items to my trunk for her. My backseat has been neglected. She will often throw her purse back there, but the last few people to ride in the back were children. My back doors are a bit hard to open at times, so I think my owner discourages anyone from riding there. Her parents are pretty cool. They drive a Nissan too, my older brother the Murano.

I guess when you get older, louder and start leaking exhaust, it’s time to be traded in. The only owner I ever knew is about ready to say goodbye to me for a newer version. I hope he knows and appreciates what he has in her. She drove me crazy at times, but I kept her safe and warm. What more could a girl want? Maybe I am her superhero, or perhaps she gave me more credit than I had due.

Sincerely,

Bruce”

“The story of my life, I take her home, I drive all night to keep her warm…and time is frozen”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vG2piMjhIVY

Just Beyond Reach

“And everyone knows I’m in over my head, over my head”

The lob is one of the fundamental shots in tennis. It is essential in doubles and singles play to be able to place the ball behind your opponent. A good topspin lob will buy you time when on the defensive or be the put away offensive shot you need to cap off a rally.  This tennis passing shot is a high percentage option when you need to get out of a defensive position. A lob can often get you out of trouble against an aggressive net player.  Dependable lobs have the ability to throw an opponent off guard because their height and depth are designed to land beyond their reach. Your opponent will be forced to chase the ball and play at least one more shot. An overhead smash becomes more difficult for an opponent when they are handed a well-executed lob. Though it can be a highly effective shot, the lob is so often underutilized.

From a tennis standpoint, it’s awfully debilitating to be beaten at net by a deep lob to the backcourt. The ball is visible, but just out of my reach. The shot appears attainable until I take that first step and realize it’s beyond being pursued. It reminds me of many of life’s circumstances: the craft of reading a situation without the ability to act.

What is beyond reach in your life right now? What “shots” can you use more often if only they were dependable and you were aggressive enough to pursue them? Are you usually on the defensive or offensive?  I think everyone can call to mind a point in their life where they viewed something as beyond their reach. I wonder if we all under-use our high percentage shots, thinking they will pit us on the defensive. What passing shots are you allowing to pass you by? I have found that what I often perceive as beyond reach is really just an off-guard moment. It is a moment of strategy and setting yourself up for the best possible outcome (the high percentages). Truly nothing worth attaining is beyond the reach of someone who knows what they need to do. If there is something you would like to pursue, you only have to execute the shot and/or reassess your position on the court.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gWRISdwHuwY

“I’d rather run the other way than stay and see”

Finishing

We all have our battles to fight. Never forget the people God uses to help you defeat them.

"And when you're tired of fighting, chained by your control..."

I flipped over the rubbery maroon scorecard. One-zero in my favor. The net between us prevented us from getting too close. I knew not to get too close. She knew too. It would hurt too much when she went away. If only nets could really spare us the pain of getting close. The scorecards, with their jumbo white numbers, always seemed to stick together. Like good friends in sports jerseys.

We finished the set. I won. It was the last tennis match she would ever play and it wasn’t even a complete match. Dayle was too tired to continue. Her blond hair, which usually lit up her face, was crumbling thin. But her laugh, even after she lost a match, was something I would never forget. It came from a deep place and bellied out of her with such prettiness and comfort.  

She wore designer sunglasses the last time we spoke. I stood in front of the club admiring her courage. I still saw the troubled light in her eyes through the shaded fashion frames.  I could taste her fear and smell her sorrow.

She was my mentor, and good friend. I tried to emulate her way with people, her persona. I respected her keen judgment and knack for decision-making. She had impeccable instincts, a mother-like quality that captured my pride. At times, I felt as if I was her very daughter.

Nothing prepares you for death. Even when you see it coming and know the shadow of death is lurking, you are pained with shock and sadness.

I scurried to my car after saying goodbye. My pulse ached for a wrist. It yearned for human contact, a warm touch. I needed a hand to hold, to tell me everything was going to be fine. I watched Dayle from a distance because I could no longer stand to be nearer to her than I already had been. She carried a green purse and began to tuck her white hat into it. Dayle folded the hat and her brilliant hands secured it loosely inside the purse. I saw her yawn her last yawn. Watered eyes. Wide open mouth. Smiling ears. My heart knew, somehow sensed the end.

"Your world's not falling apart; it's falling into place."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIZitK6_IMQ