AS I sit at my computer screen looking at pictures of cars, I notice favorites that stir faded memories. Noting that some of those memories are bad, while others are good... let me say that likely because of my Christian outlook I try to concentrate more on the good. For example, each time I see a nice ‘56 Chevy pictured... especially a four-door... it brings back fond memories.

 You see, during days after my military service I felt that I knew a little about life and a just few things about cars. The year was 1966. I’d gotten a job as a tool and die apprentice and had just purchased a brand-new Mustang fastback. In making the rounds of family and friends... trying to impress them, primarily those who wanted to see me profit in life, I eventually checked in with my Uncle Bud.

 Bud, named “Earl” at his baptism... was a man that I’d grown to admire during my teens. I’d known for some time that he had been what many would call a war hero. He’d served in Europe during much of World War 2. He’d been with forces trapped during brutal winter conditions in the city of Bastogne, in France. Trapped there by overwhelming German forces, he and his fellow defenders went hungry and suffered poorly from winter’s assault. He mentioned once that he’d slept on the only dry spot he could find... on top of a loaded ammunition truck. Artillery had whistled overhead while he lay trying to sleep in the bitter cold. If a round landed too close, said he... it would have been all over. He said that he wouldn’t even have known that he’d gone out with a bang.

 It was during that horrid time that Uncle Bud showed the depths of American bravery that emerged from many persons serving during that military standoff. While on patrol on the city’s perimeter, he confronted the enemy, then escaped entrapment

and returned to inform his command of the imminent threat from the surrounding army. By doing so, he preserved the life of many men and himself and was awarded the Bronze Star for his service.

Thankful Memories!

 Thus with respect I went to visit and show Uncle Bud my new car. Going into his house located at the end of a street in a Philadelphia suburb, I talked for a moment with my cousins and my aunt. Preparing their Thanksgiving dinner, they told me that Uncle Bud was out in the garage working on his Chevy. I strolled out to see him.

 What I found was predictable. Uncle Bud was cruddy in his working clothes. I mean he was covered in dirt, oil and grease from head to toe. In his hand was a 3/8 in. drive ratchet with short extension and 1/2” in. deep socket. He certainly did not look like a hallowed hero. Instead, he looked like a master foundry patternmaker who had just gotten

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Whether two door, four door, convertible or station wagon, many a mid-’50s Chevy still turns heads at a car show. Both consequential and common, they model the picture I carry everyday about my Lord Jesus. He is yet the Son of God and the Son of Man.

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