The Cycle of Life

My youngest son is in Costa Rica this semester studying Spanish, so this weekend I am driving his car, a sweet little Acura RSX Type-S. She is a silver bullet, low and sleek, and she drives like a sled on a rail. We call her the "RS Sexy." We joke that she is a chick magnet. One has to be careful with magnets, though. They attract scrap iron equally as well as valuables.

It is the third car he has driven in his young life. The two previous provided life-lessons for both him and me.

As he approached his first driver's license, almost any conversation led to a discussion of cars. I sensed an opportunity. At age fifteen, he was an extremely bright kid and potentially a great athlete. But he was already on auto pilot. In school and on the athletic field, he was mailing it in--doing enough to get by with minimal effort. Lots of bright people do this, but it's a shame for a young person to develop such a life-strategy.

I offered a deal. Get serious about life. Quit coasting. Study and earn the grades you are capable of making. Don't just make the varsity football team as a sophomore and stand on the sidelines watching every Friday night--earn a starting spot. Show me something and I'll get you a nice car. Any car you want that I can afford.

He accepted the challenge. His grades went from "B's" to "A's". He was one of three sophomores on a varsity team that was a perennial football power in Alabama, and one that was full of senior players to boot. He not only started, but played well, earning an All-Area Honorable Mention.

He wanted a Ford Mustang. The Red Head was vehemently opposed. Grandparents were opposed. Friends advised against it. Everyone said the same thing. "A sixteen year old kid does not need a mega-horsepower muscle car."

But a deal is a deal.

I'm not sure who was more proud--him or me. She was a used car, but she looked new. Solid white with a black interior, a sweet ride. The look on his face when I picked him up that day after school was worth every penny I paid.

Speeches were made: drive slowly; stay off the cell phone; take it easy until you get more driving experience; no riders; please be careful.

But a young man is immortal and bullet-proof in his own mind. You simply can't convince him otherwise.

The mustang survived about a month before he ran off the road, over-compensated the correction, and totaled it. He walked away without a scratch. We both got lucky there. I got most of the lecturing. I didn't lecture him--no need. He was hurting enough, and I hurt for him.

The replacement car was a little less glamorous--a ten-year-old Ford Explorer. We called it the "mama car", because it looked like what a mom might drive to pick up kids from school or go to the grocery store. It was already a little dinged-up and made some interesting noises. It was his ride through the rest of high school.

The deal was honored, though. He stuck with the studies and worked hard on the field. The result was a good scholarship to Mississippi College, some six hours away from home.

We didn't think the old mama car would be reliable for the long trip, so the RS-Sexy was purchased. It was a reward, of sorts, for a job well-done. And it has been a good car.

Life teaches lessons to fathers and sons, and sometimes things seem to run in cycles.

It reminds me of a day years ago. I'll never forget the look on my momma's face the day my dad and I drove up in my new Camaro.