"Go See Terry"
The car my Father chose for me.
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 atm. Turners looking thin too. About the only thing on offer was a tiny 1000cc Toyota Starlet. I didn’t fancy folding myself into that all summer long.
I’d spent the previous two days since my arrival asking God to provide me something suitable, so I was out for a scout rather than 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.”
Straight away I said, “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 recalled,
God hadn’t said, “Go check the yard.”
He’d said, “Go see Terry.”
So I boosted out, trotted into Grimmers workshop, and found him there.
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.
Then 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 a really mint 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 properly serviced.
Price?
$2,000.
I came back two hours later when Alison arrived for her shift at Grimmers till. It 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 inside, a bit faded outside, and exactly what I needed.
Worth $3500 retail at the time.
Got her for two :)
That Corolla turned out to be an absolute beauty. Over the next six years it clocked more than 100,000 kilometres with me and various family members driving it. Apart from the usual expenses of diesel, 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.
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.