Driven

When "Betty" our 1994 Ford Explorer was set to retire, we packed her on a slowboat to Maui, to enjoy her retirement shuttling members of Merrill family around and hauling groceries from Costco home for Mark's mother. She was perfect for island life--no need for AC (doesn't work anymore), and max speed on island is 45 mph (she can't go faster than that anyway!).

I had a major case of deja vu last week. We were up north, hiking the Nakahele blowhole, and Mark had to hike down the highway to retrieve the car. He came screaming up the road in Betty, windows down, blond hair blowing in the breeze. It took me back to the beginning of our relationship. My heart would pound when I saw the red car come around the corner, retrieving me from a long day in the Benson Building on BYU's campus. I would climb in the passenger side, plant a kiss on him and head off for our time. We were (and still are) best friends. That car took us everywhere.

Pretty soon, it became "my" car too. He willingly turned her over to me, tolerated the Madonna CD in the player, never complained about the seat being moved all the way up, mirrors adjusted. He just wanted it kept clean and in good repair.

We live in a disposable world now. Throw it out and buy new, rather than caring for and coaxing more life out of clothes, furniture, even relationships. We throw around terms like "starter marriages," like it is cool thing. The way Mark treats Betty is indicative of his whole life. He meticulous cared for Betty, doing ALL in his power to keep it running. When it simply could not perform its needed function, he found an extended life for it. Even here, he wants it kept neat and clean, in good repair, and to be of service for those lucky enough to come here. He is sad when he hears it is being taken for granted and abused.

When Betty can no longer take to the road (she is a Ford after all), I will bet he will sink it in the ocean, in a strategic spot so that maybe it will become an artificial reef or a popular dive location.