It's Only A Car

Everybody is different. Everyone has things that are important to them. For instance, my youngest brother is obsessed with history, historical homes, antiques, geneology and that sort of thing. My dad, me and my son have always found an obsession in what kind of car we drive.

Anyone that knows me might find that strange considering the fact that I am female and the other fact that I have never drove a really nice car...as bad as I have always wanted to.

Although I lusted after the muscle cars of my day and always wanted to "soup up" the cars I drove, I never had the opportunity. I am sure me being a female didn't help my case as far as dad helping me out in the car "souping" area nor did I possess the muscle mass or mechanical knowledge that it would take to embark on such an endeavor.

So the story goes on. My son's car was stolen last night. Stolen from right out in front of his apartment. How in the hell they stole the thing amazes me. It wasn't the most quite vehicle on the block. It was "souped up" and a bit "jerry rigged".

Lucas got the original car in a less than desirable condition. He rebuilt the whole engine with the mother of all car engine parts. He and his father painted and repainted. I watched them spend months sinking money and time into building this special car.

I have pictures of the whole process but I will spare you the boring details and post the pic of the finished product...



I'll never forget the first year we went back to Mobile from Austin. Since we had only a rental and Toby had the rental off somewhere else, Summer and I piled in Lucas's car with him to take a 30 minute trip to visit my dad.

Summer had obviously picked up a bug while we were visiting. On the way home she was doing her best to keep her upchuck down. It was hot as hell and my son's "souped up" car did not have air conditioning nor was it a comfort ride.

I think this is the most sorry I have ever felt for any person in my whole life. Summer knew how important her brother's car was to him and that he would be none to happy if there were vomit on the floorboard of it.

The minute we pulled up into his driveway she opened the car door and let it flow. To this day she will tell me about how she had to hold it in so she wouldn't mess her brothers car up. Now that's sisterly love for ya.

Back to the present. The mom in me keeps calling to check on my son. He keeps telling me he's o.k. and that there is nothing he can do but accept it, but I know my son. I hear stress, sadness and anger in his voice. I hate this sort of thing happened to him...

Unfortunately "shit happens" in life. It is up to us how we deal with it. Everyone deals with stress anger and pain in different ways....