Monday, September 06, 2004

tell me a story 2

Yesterday, after church, I made a rather short futile attempt at a nap, but the kids were determined that I not drift off. So I decided to try to find parts for my truck that had all at once decided to break on Saturday. I am not exaggerating, in the course of a single trip on Saturday, the truck began to run hot, driver side radius arm bushings crumbled and fell out, and the gear shift started flopping all around and I had trouble finding the gears. Once, Samantha was having trouble closing the passenger door due to the sleek handle-less design of my interior, so her knee kicked that dash board and knocked the air conditioner vent out. No problem, the air conditioner doesn't work anyway.
In my online auto parts search, I actually found the radius arm bushings. Only $11. But the installation is a $150 dollar job and I don't know who's going to pay me to do it. The gear shift kit was not available, I found out that I own the only 2-door, manual 5-speed Explorer ever made, and they are certainly not going to make parts just for me. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but the website did say that my truck was extremely rare. Apparently, the Explorer was made for anti-minivan soccer moms, who require 4 doors, convenient one touch 4-wheel drive and an auto transmission.
So frustrated, I kicked the tires as I rode up the driveway on my bike with it's brand new wheel bearings. Who needs a big, rattly cage anyway? I headed for the back roads. The no-traffic, tree-tunnel, crank-and-bank-windhorse roads. I rode for about 30 minutes before I turned up a curious side road calling to be explored. Several hundred yards up that road was a Sunday afternoon front porch holding two people and two guitars and two glasses of iced tea. I pulled in the driveway, walked up to the porch, was handed a guitar and a glass of tea and we spent the afternoon playing, "The old rugged cross", "Aimee", "Gimme Three Steps", "Amazing Grace", and laughing, worrying and telling stories. The porch filled up before I left to ride the wind back home somewhat lighter than when I'd left. As I was putting on my helmet, someone called from the porch, "Tell me the truth and I'll believe it, tell me a fact and I'll accept it, tell me a story and I'll keep it in my heart."
I'm learning the power of the story that can be told by listening.