As I rode to the car dealership and pondered my friend's question, what popped in my head for my new car was Ladybug. At first I rejected it. Ladybugs are brighter red than my new car, and they're really tiny. My car is compact but not tiny. Ladybug would fit better for a Smart Car. So I started trying to come up with other names, but each time I thought about it, Ladybug was what came. Ladybugs are lucky, and I feel lucky to find this car. Ladybugs can fly, and though I'm not much of a racer, there's something that feels a bit like flying when I drive it. During my week at the Hoffman process after my middler year of seminary, I received a ladybug stuffed animal that has been meaningful to me. So, Ladybug it is. World, meet Ladybug, my new car.
Gold Star has been with me through three Chicago winters and ten Virginia summers. She has traveled up and down the East Coast. She has served congregations right along with me and has carried me safely wherever I needed to go. She has always had a few quirks, the most noticeable being that in recent years when the door is locked and the key is not far away, some kind of error in the security system causes her to start honking as if she is possessed. A quick touch to the unlock button on the key fob turns it off, but sometimes the event happens at inappropriate times. As happy as I am with my new car, I am sad to say good-bye to this old friend. But she is going to a new family who needs her, and I trust she will serve them well, too.
I know I'm anthropomorphizing, but I feel a bit disloyal at how quickly I've fallen in love with Ladybug. Yesterday I cleaned out Gold Star to prepare her for her new owners. Letting go is hard, but it's time for her to move on. May she be a blessing to those who drive and ride in her. May they be safe and secure. May she serve them well.
The old and the new, side by side. Grateful for them both.
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