"Go See Terry"

Rock of Remembrance

Hamilton. October, 2003. About 9.45am on a sunny spring Friday.

I’m heading west along Boundary Road in Dad’s Hilux ute for Turners’ weekly cheap car auction in Te Rapa. Need to buy a cheap car for my four month stay before heading back to Tanzania.

Budget: $3,000.

Problem: everything decent, aka reliable, was too expensive, and everything cheap looked pretty dodgy.

Car yards were asking silly money. Online, TradeMe had nothing worth chasing after right now. Even Turners was looking exceptionally thin. About the only thing there on offer was a tiny 1000cc Toyota Starlet. Cheap as chips to run but I didn’t fancy folding myself into that all summer long.

I’d spent the two days since arriving back asking God to provide me something suitable, so I was out for a scout rather than just sitting around.

As I came up to the Heaphy Terrace roundabout, planning to head straight through, I said to myself,

“Oh well, guess I’m humble enough to drive a sewing machine Starlet if I must Lord.”

Then I heard the Holy Spirit whisper:

“Go see Terry. He has the perfect car for you.”

“Of course. Why didn’t I think of him?”

Probably because I hadn’t heard of, or thought about, Terry for at least four years.

So instead of going straight on, I swung a right around the island onto Heaphy and headed for Grimmer Motors.

First stop: his small car sales yard.

Nothing there except a Legnum wagon the salesman wouldn’t let go for under $4,000. Too much, and too much risk with a fun but old turbo.

He tells me Terry sold the car sales business to him a couple years ago.

I went to hop back in the ute, thinking I’d better carry on to Turners real quick.

Then I realized,

God hadn’t said, “Go check the yard.”

He’d said, “Go see Terry.”

So I boosted out, trotted into Grimmers workshop, and spotted him on the far side of a Commodore.

I asked whether he knew of anything cheap but reliable for sale.

First he said no. Since selling the yard, he didn’t really keep up with that stuff anymore.

He paused. Thinking. . .

Actually, yes!

He’d sell me the Corolla his wife had been driving for the last three years. He needed some quick cash because an older, but mint super low-mileage Corolla from an elderly customer had just come up, and he wanted to nab it for Alison.

Her car had done quite a few k’s, but was tidy, reliable, and had an impeccable service history.

Price?

$2,000.

Alison arrived for her afternoon shift at Grimmers till two hours later. The car checked out beautifully.

Done deal.

By lunchtime, I was driving a grey 1993 Toyota Corolla 2L diesel sedan with 252,000 kilometres on the clock — mint condition inside, a bit faded outside, and exactly what I needed.

Worth $3500 retail.

That Corolla turned out to be an absolute beauty. Over the next six years it clocked more than 100,000 kilometres with me and/or various family members driving it. Economical and cornered like it was on rails. Apart from fuel, oil, filters, and tyres, it cost me nothing.

A couple of Alpha-type mates reckoned they wouldn’t feel much like a man driving a little slow boring grey diesel.

I didn’t care a hoot. Loved driving it.

Because my Father in Heaven picked it out for me Himself.

Proof, yet again, that God cares about ordinary things. He’s not above helping a bloke find a cheap, reliable car. He’s not too lofty to guide us in practical matters. And sometimes His guidance comes, not with fireworks but with a clear whisper at a junction. Turn, go that way . . .

The key moment wasn’t buying the Corolla.

It was the right turn of obedience beforehand.

The step of faith. Laughably small. But on the other side of it was a provision I could never have arranged for myself. Then nearly seven years later, when I decide to replace it, a friend rolls up with $2000 cash in hand for the easiest sale ever.

That’s often how it works.

God speaks.
We obey.
Later we realise how kind He was, not to mention His impeccable timing.

Abba Father provides.