Do you remember your first car? Mine was a 1976 Plymouth Arrow. It was a reddish-orange beauty with "wing" windows on the back that were reminiscent of the porthole windows on the 1957 T-Bird! The license plate number, in case you were interested, was 1-88-AY. 

My Dad found this car for me in the summer of 1978. It was a repo at the bank he worked at and it was truly bargain priced at $2,000. He said if I was interested, he would co-sign a note for me so that I could buy it. After one look, I was interested and the deal was made. Since I was beginning college at the end of that summer, I worked extra hours to get it paid off. I think it was an 18 month note, but I got it paid down in four or five. I worked at Kentucky Fried Chicken in Casper, Wyoming during the oil boom years, so getting the extra hours was no problem.

When I finally had a day off, I would load up the car with a sleeping bag, grab the family dog, and head out on the 45 mile trip that took me to Paradise on earth - a ten mile strip of canyon that connected two nearby lakes. This canyon road was a strip of two-laned, asphalt pavement that wound back and forth with curves and peaks and valleys that were irresistible for an 18 year old with a new car. I can remember running the car as fast as the law would allow (I already had a few tickets and they were expensive) both hands on the wheel and windows wide open (no air-conditioning). My left elbow would be hanging out the driver side window and my dog would have his head out the passenger side window, ears flapping in the wind. 

This was pure exhilaration and joy! It was, in fact, freedom!

It was also responsibility on four wheels. It gave me incentive to earn enough money to pay my own expenses. I learned how to change oil and tires and to set the points at tune-up time. I learned to check the fuel gage (but we won't get into that). And, with the help of local law enforcement, I eventually learned how to go the speed limit. I also got into more than one accident that taught me how to pay a bit more attention than I had previously been used to.

I had that car for about four years. By the time I was through with college, the old Arrow was also through. It had an overhauled engine that just didn't take. It had a pooched out fender on one side and a long, deep scratch on the other. The driver's side door no longer worked and the gas cap door and rear hatch also were "sticky". It was this car that showed me that my future wife really was a keeper, for on one of out first dates the oil cap actually blew off from the foresaid overhaul that didn't take. When the oil cap blew off it hit the underside of the hood with a loud "bang" and then rattled around in the fan before falling to the ground. Instead of being embarrassed, the love of my life got out of the car and helped me find that elusive rascal. 

I think we can all remember our first car, especially if it was one we had to purchase with our own money. I know a lot of kids haven't had that privilege, but those who have will likely see it as a blessing. It is the very things like this that teach us a sense of responsibility that all kids need as they are making the transition from teenager to adult, and I am grateful that I had the opportunity to learn that particular lesson. Thinking about it makes me realize how fortunate I was to have parents who helped me have such opportunities that would allow me to grow and mature in ways that are so necessary in helping a child become an adult.

When you thin about it, this is exactly what God does for us, only on a much more important level. He gives us the opportunities and experiences that He knows we will need in order to someday become mature in our service to Him. Sometimes these experiences are expensive, and sometimes they are inconvenient. Always, they come with hard work. But in the end it is these experiences that bring the exhilaration and joy and freedom we all need in life. And, if we are wise, we will be grateful to the One who has allowed us to grow up by trusting us enough to give us these responsibilities in the first place.