G.C. and Blue Knight

I cleaned out my car. It wasn’t any ordinary cleaning.

Golden Chariot, GC for short, I call her, is about to leave me. I say she’s leaving me because she told me it was time to go. She broke down. “It’s the engine,” the mechanic said. He hung his head as if to say there’s really no hope here.

GC had given me a few warnings, but I was quite attacked to her. The mechanic picked up on that and told me what I wanted to her. That she’d be okay for a while. He’d seen lots of Toyota Rav4s make it to 300,000. CG only had 220-plus miles on her. Besides, she looked almost new with the body and interior in great shape.

She’s been my faithful companion since 2009 and for all those 220-plus miles. We’ve traveled freeways to visit friends, to cities and other states to present workshops and for speaking engagements, and ventured over graveled roads that no sane woman of my age should be traveling alone. I always felt safe. GC kept me safe.

But when she started stalling at stop signs and traffic lights and even when I slowed down for curves, I knew she was telling me it was time to let her go. But to where? Who would fix her and care for her the way I had? And where would I find a new car so quickly. Then there’s the money. I should have known a magical miracle was in the making. In fact, a few magical miracles were in the making.

The day the mechanic told me it was time to let go of GC, I walked inside the dealership and told the salesman to find me the right new car. The salesman was a friend I’d known for 20 years, a person I trusted, and someone who knew what I needed in a vehicle. He found one that day. It hadn’t been built yet, but GC was still good as long as I watched the oil. She’d serve me well for the next few weeks.

Still, I was concerned about not seeing this new vehicle before spending a lot of money, money that was being gifted to me, which gave me even more reason to make sure this was the right car for me. As you might have guessed, I’m one who names her cars and keeps them a long time, so I needed a sign to assure me this was the right vehicle. That assurance came while reading about the Rav4s.

An article popper up about the color. It’s called blueprint, a color that changes depending on the light. In the dark it looks black; in the light it looks blue; in bright sunlight it has a purple tone. The name came whizzing into my thoughts: Blue Knight.

Blue Knight, yes. A vehicle to keep me safe. Blue Knight, my protector on these back roads and country byways I travel and over the busy freeways and in clogged city traffic. Blue Knight. I smiled. Thank you. I had my reassurance. But the miracles weren’t over.

The next day, my neighbor was outside, so I stopped to say hi. During our conversation, I mentioned I was getting a new vehicle. “What was my plan for CG?” he asked along with a dozen other questions. Headed over to the post office before going home when his wife called. “I want that Toyota,” she said.

Now here’s the real magical miracle. My neighbor and his son are both mechanically knowledgeable and the grandsons are mechanically inclined. The grandfather and father plan on using GC as a teaching tool in engine repair for the younger generation. “We’ll keep her in the family,” my neighbor said.

As someone who has spent her life in one form of education or another, tears come to my eyes and my heart warmed at this magical miracle. It is as though GC herself planned it.