The Sweet, Red Firebird

The sweet, red Firebird my husband used to drive. It was one of the reasons I was attracted to him (totally shallow, I know). It was fast, I felt so cool driving it, the radio did a sweet bumping thing when you turned up the bass, he kept it clean, and it looked rediculously funny parked in front of our trailer. I believe I mentioned in a previous post how I accidentally drove the sweet Firebird on railroad tracks. It was an accident, but I can look back now and say I was probably trying to be as cool as I felt when I was driving that night. I zigged when I should have zagged, taking a jaunt that was NOT a jaunt, and before you knew it, that beautiful red machine was teetering back and forth on a set of tracks, a circus balancing act, if you will, just waiting for Amtrak to deliver its demise. Fortunately for me (and less fortunate for some of my friends), a nosy, yet helpful, lady stopped, saw we needed help, and called the local sheriff's department. The sweet, red Firebird lived to see another day thanks to that nosy lady, even if all of our pocketbooks were lighter.

I saw a Firebird like this beloved car tonight and I started thinking about how proud my husband was of his car. He took care of his car, it was worth more than our home (at the time), and it was his. Was it the nicest car ever made? No, but it was a car he wanted, he worked hard for it, and he was proud of it. It was his baby. Until one day, when I told him I was pregnant.

Nothing was mentioned of the Firebird throughout the beginning of the pregnancy, but one day, it became apparent that the Firebird was not an optimal family sedan. The time came, and Wes sold his car. I never thought much of it (and maybe I'm thinking too much about it now), but it just made sense to me that a car seat didn't fit, and it had to go. Maybe its because up to that point I had never owned a car that I cared about. Maybe it was pregnancy hormones diluting my thinking (I blame everything on pregnancy hormones - and I haven't been pregnant in 3 years), maybe its because I was more selfish than him.

(May I mention as a side note, not only did he sell his car, he took on my 1992 Mercury Topaz. That I bought from my grandma for $500. Whose paint came off on your hand when you closed the doors. That had an inappropriate nick name that referenced poo. I'm 98% sure this photograph is of a nicer Topaz than what he got.)


For whatever reason, tonight, it hit me. He sold his car, and inherited a lemon. Not because he wanted to, not because he had to, but because he wanted to do what was best for his new family. We didn't have a lot of money, and selling the car helped us make it through maternity leave. Selling the car gave us the option of getting a practical, safe family vehicle. Taking on ownership of the Topaz gave the baby and me a safer mode of transportation, with air conditioning, and a liner on the roof.

Maybe selling his car is just a little thing, but sometimes the littlest gestures in life make the biggest impact, and we all too often overlook them. I think God sent this sweet red Firebird across my path to remind me that my husband is an amazing man who gives for his family before anything else when it means the most (and even most of the time when it doesn't). And I think God sent this because we are on the verge of football season and maybe every time I see a sweet red Firebird between now and November I will remember that he does love us, but he already gave up his car... : )