I've joked several times about the hardship of being born the only boy with three sisters. I never had a brother. But this is not true on a couple of levels.
In my years in fellowship the family at Milford Baptist, I've normally driven cars with quite a few miles on them. There was the Cavalier station wagon that Jane and I bought new, but we made it all the way to 200,000. There was the Trooper that I got cheap after it had been in an accident, and it's younger brother a few years later. Now there's a Jeep with electrical (or, demon) problems. And with all these cars, and more, I found some brothers.
I was rear-ended a few years ago while driving the Cavalier. Matt Kulig towed me (in the dead of night) from St. Johns to Swartz Creek where we used a garage to take my good engine from my bad body and place it in another body that Matt's father (whom I scarcely knew) gave me. Dean Buddingh helped with that project, and these two brothers blessed me with their expertise and many more miles. I could never have worked this out or done this job myself.
The Trooper was 4-wheel drive, so when the clutch had to be replaced, it involved a bit more work, more than I knew. This operation took place in Scott Bower's garage, and Scott provided a lot of expertise, and Bill Grissom a lot of work, in helping me replace the slave cylinder (didn't know I had one) and the clutch.
I loved that red Trooper, except for the failing fuel pump. Ray Prieur lay on the ground with me to drop the gas tank and replace the pump, and then fix it again, and again. He was great, as was Scott, at teaching me to do things and not just doing them for me.
Al Lund loaned me his garage as Ben Busick and I spent a lot of hours taking an engine out of the "newer" Trooper and putting it back together again. Ben was willing to work with me, in spite of his aversion to "strange" vehicles (not Ford) with metric bolts.
We have had a space of time with newer used cars. But as the cars get older, things start to go wrong. At the moment, Ray Robbins is now trying to troubleshoot me through Jeep windows that won't work. It makes for awkward moments when at a toll booth or at the drive-thru window. I deeply appreciate the brotherly kindness shown by all these guys, and others besides
Oh, and Jesus also foundationally and fundamentally came to my aid, not to help me with my cars, but to redeem my life from the pit and give me a new life.
So I guess I have some brothers after all.