Sporty. Sleek. Stylish. Swoosh!

During the administrative planning stage of the California trip, my husband and I discussed the countless ways in which transportation might be afforded our family. We considered almost every option under the sun, and finally settled on the choice to do a short term lease.

Upon our arrival in May, we entered an unpretentious building, on an almost delapidated car lot, and began the process to secure a vehicle. Due to the small nature of the facility, it became quickly clear that the pickin's were slim, as to what type of automobile I'd actually drive away in.

For about two days, we drove a tuna can that barely fit in the garage. Unsatisfied that I'd survive the summer in such condition, we took it back, to exchange.

The day we did so, I discovered, by accident (and my sheer delight) a car of this make and model.:

A beauty of a sporty, yet practical little car that fit me well, fit the garage well, and could deliver us to our various and sundry destinations with ease.

I've loved my little car.

So much so that my husband has made comment on the fact that I've said nary a cross word about it. Perhaps he should invest in one, to make it my very own? He has queried? Well, we can leave that for another blogpost. No pressure, Gil.

Meanwhile, as I've sported 'round the greater LA area, a technicality arose.

The car registration tags expired.

I'd driven in this condition, unaware, for almost three months, until that fateful day that I was informed by a dutiful LA traffic enforcer. [ahem. That's all we'll say about that!]

Therefore, a trip to the Little-Car-Shop-That-Could, in hopes of securing said such tags.

***Enter dramatic, tension building music here***

As I walked in the front door, the California Cutie who has always handled our account (predominantly because she is a veritable one-woman-show at this small outfit) greeted me with these words: "Oh! I need to talk to you!!"

I am fairly certain color drained from my face.

What dreadful words.

Had a stealth camera at a busy intersection caught me unawares, scooting through a red light? Was a heafty fee of $381 being leveled at me? (Oh the dread at the thought! {{shudder!}})

Um, no.

My sporty little car, it seems, had been SOLD by the company.

It was my job to vacate said such car, immediately.

DRAT! and Double Drat!!

- A resigned sigh. -

Enter the Lord in His magnificent timing.

As California Cutie and I surveyed the meager furnishings of the car lot for a suitable replacement, and I settled in to my fate, I looked down.

Before me stood the car I arrived in.

Next to that, a fresh rental.

Next to that . . .

THE EXACT SAME CAR I HAVE BEEN DRIVING ALL ALONG!

"Um . . .how about that one?" I asked, pointing nervously at the sleek little home on wheels. I half expected to hear her say it was in for repairs, or something.

She looked,

and blinked,

and looked again.

"Wow! The man who just walked in the building when we were exiting is bringing that back. Do you want it? I can do the transfer immediately."

Did I want it???

I was handed a gift from the Lord. The only exchange I made in this little endeavor was a trade for a cleaner interioir and less mileage.

Not too shabby.

Thanks, Lord, for answering before I could even call.

And it shall come to pass, that before they call, I will answer; and while they are yet speaking, I will hear. Isaiah 65:24