Have you ever had your socks blessed off? David and I have been through everything you can imagine in the crapstorm department.

Okay, not that… or that… but nearly everything else.

We chose to work for a small ministry for most of our married lives so finances have been limited. Yep, we’re kinda noble. For many years we’ve made do with one vehicle. That’s a great money saver when you count gas, insurance, taxes, etc. But if you happen to know me at all, you’ll understand why the following is such a blessing.

I love older vehicles.

Not the kind that break down. We’ve had our share of those. In fact we’ve often joked that we buy new transportation one part at a time. No, I’ve loved muscle cars and jazzy vehicles since we dated in a ’67 Camaro. The throaty sound of a souped up motor always gets my attention. When Dodge put out the new Challengers with the retro body style I nearly wrenched my neck coveting one of those beauties as we passed the local dealership. In fact I always include a description of the leading lady’s truck or car in my novels. In one of them she has a ’55 Chevy truck painted creamy old school white with soft brown leather interior.

One day my beloved asked if I wanted to think about getting another car. Before he could make his case I was shaking my head no. We’d just put a new transmission in our ’06 Nissan truck. That old thing has been paid off so long that the thought of car payments made me a wee bit sick.

He continued anyway. “But we can’t take our grandkids anywhere since we don’t have a backseat. Just think about it.”

He knows the magic word.

Grandkids.

I sniffed like Barney Fife and settled into the worn out seat of our reliable truck. As he topped the ramp where we returned from yet another doctor appointment he mentioned, “There’s a little car up here I want you to see.”

I didn’t plan on looking.

But there she was: Creamy old school white with a soft brown ragtop.

“Whup it in,” I suggested.

We took it for a test drive and I couldn’t stop smiling. Though it’s an ‘05 and doesn’t have a Hemi, it does have a Turbo.

And it’s a convertible.

With a backseat.

For the grandkids.

My beloved added, “We’ve got that money mama left us. If you want to make a cash offer we might be able to get it.”

I looked at the man as if he’d just landed from Mars.

I talked to the very kind owner and struck a deal. I have not had my own wheels in 27 years.

It felt good.

Immediately we put the top down and drove straight to my friend Ann’s house in Gold Hill. She and I took it for a spin. Suddenly we were less like Lucy and Ethel and more like Thelma and Louise. Last week we convinced our very patient husbands to go with us on a road trip to the Blue Ridge. Again we put the top down and donned a couple scarves trying to channel our inner youngsters.

It was cold.

So we sat in the back wrapped in quilts where we could talk all we wanted. So what if we’re not quite Thelma and Louise. At least we had the good sense to let our husbands drive so we didn’t end up sailing off the mountain.

When we looked at the pictures of our day I was surprised. Though I felt like a young chick, the photos did not lie.

So if you see someone smiling like a mule eating briars, tooling around town with a scarf on her head and no socks…

Try not to wrench your neck looking at the crazy old chick inside. Just know this. She is one blessed grandma!