On December 14, this little car took off for the last time from a mostly empty parking lot. As I reached 5 mph, out of nowhere, a car zoomed passed my window and hit me on the front corner. He must have been going 15 mph. We both got out and as he began to ask questions, I remained mostly silent. Pieces were all over the place. I could have driven it since the wheel or tire was fine, but I would have been pulled over had a cop seen me. We called the wrecker and she was hauled away. I looked it over. The frame is good, I said, she could be repaired. An assessor with the insurance company arrived the next day and informed me that the car had to be totaled. That is, since the cost to repair exceeds its value, per State law, the car must be condemned to a scrap yard.
Contrary to what you might think, the car being totaled like this, far from being an unfortunate headache, became an occasion of grace.
The car had a 190,000 miles on it and before the crash we were already discussing selling it and getting another car for me to drive. Since I work hospice, I drive each day from home to home, facility to facility. The car was already nine years old and had already exceeded its life span. It was starting to require a bit more cost to maintain.
Since hospice requires full coverage on automobiles used for work, insurance wrote us a fat check for more than the car was worth even before the accident. This allowed us to purchase a used use car so my visits could continue.
So I say Little Red Riding Hood as a term of endearment. This car was a gift in more ways than one, a gift from loved ones. This little car has served us well, Valerie and me.
The way it came to its end was an experince of grace where I certainly saw God’s hand.
Laudem Dei.