Well done, thou good and faithful Suburban...

The Tank!

Just before we moved from Greensboro, our home teacher and stake president, Mitch Scott, was visiting with our family. We talked about how we were sad to leave our home, having moved into that little house with 6 month old Dallin and were now leaving with all five of our children. He said something that impressed me. He said: "This home has served you well." It was first time I had ever thought about our material possessions actually serving us or even serving God's higher purposes. With the covenant of consecration we make in the temple, all of our "things" can be dedicated to furthering His work. And that starts at home. That's where the Suburban comes in.

After driving the same minivan for 10 years (and more than a few repairs), Lisa called me one day at work and said it was time. Actually she said to either get rid of the minivan or drive over her with it. (Message received loud and clear). Within a few days we had our beloved Suburban. Tory was 5,
and the very first week we had it he ran into it with his bicycle. He was fine. So was the car. In fact, this car (affectionately called "the tank") seemed invincible. It backed over smaller cars three times, and had multiple bump ups and run ins, but still not a scratch. It seemed invincible. It could probably move a mountain! Well, maybe not a mountain, but Lisa did move a small convenient store with it once. We also nailed a pylon inside a parking garage. Still no scratch - not sure about the parking deck though. Hope it's still standing.

What a workhorse it was. Countless trips to grandma's, soccer practices and games, dance practices, recitals, family vacations, youth activities, youth conferences, temple trips, service projects, scout camps, girls camps, and campouts. Once we even drove it through the woods in the rain and mud where there was no road. What a rush! And the snow? Child's play. I even recently put a refrigerator in that thing. We put our
stickers for missions and colleges and even a Mitt Romney. It was truly a part of the family. We consecrated the tank to whatever the Lord needed done, and the tank delivered valiantly.

In recent months we became concerned that maybe its time was drawing near. Things inside the car began breaking, although the engine, the heart of the tank, was still hanging in there. The fuel gauge was not always accurate and we actually ran out of gas three times (that was fun). We were happy to overlook those things in our old friend. But when the door broke and the window stopped working this winter and we had to tape it closed (literally driving around with duct tape and packing tape holding it up), we decided it might be better to invest in the next generation family car for "Grandma Lisa" rather than pay to fx it.

There are many things about the tank we'll miss. The nine seat capacity. The screwdriver that moved the seat forward. Christmas trees on top. Gameboys and I-spy
books. The way we used to strap down an actual TV in the front center section to watch VHS movies. (The TV speaker was right at Lisa's ear, but nothing that a piece of cardboard to deflect the sound couldn't fix). We even got the Xbox playing in that thing. So many memories.

When I dropped the tank off yesterday and picked up his successor, I could almost hear the tank say: "Thanks for making me part of your family". But it was I who needed to say thanks. I could hardly hold back the tears - it was a wonderful 220,000 miles together on the road of life. We'll never forget you, you good and faithful servant.


The Next Generation: