FRONT-PORCH GOSPEL: This life story begins in 1973 (kind of) – part 38

Friends, right here we need to pause and thank you for traveling along with us now through thirty-seven chapters. We haven’t hardly taken a breath in telling our story, but that’s a good thing. I love that we can share these memoirs here on this ‘Inspiration’ page, because it is such real life. Today you will climb into “Sweet ‘65” and drive along on this “first date” and be a part of a great history.

Even the amazin’ blonde, to whom the Lord gave the assignment to travel with us for the next fifty years, appreciates the Lord’s powerful work in such a pivotal time in life. It has always been with her blessing that we’ve told this story, because it demonstrates God’s greatness as well as any I can tell. I still hum around with “How Great Thou Art” throughout my days, and I do so especially every time I travel back in my mind to this Summer of ’73.

Stay tuned, because before we spin the yarn on the thirty-eighth chapter, the dark-haired girl and the young man driving the ‘65 red Nova would be singing that song together, too, which in and of itself is an amazing thing.

I had mentioned previously the big corn-fed rival from Alabama to Cheyenne as I told him the story, and I had to pick up there again.

“Cheyenne,” I said, “I’d just as soon we wait until the last minute to bring our big corn-fed boy further into the picture. Truth is, he would go on to fight a battle he was not goin’ to win, but he didn’t realize that. I guess neither did I at the time.”

Truth is, I went on, even if I had known him, he would’ve been the furthest thing from my mind when I picked up Corrina on that warm summer Wednesday evening. Picking her up and “going out” was about to take this whirlwind romance to a whole new level.

Her parents came out from the kitchen by the time I had stepped onto to the oval-shaped colorful braided rug that covered part of the wooden living room floor. Mr. McClain shook my hand and gave me the usual formalities, Mrs. McClain in her gracious Southern way gave me a hug and told me to drive carefully, then she turned to Corrina and told her to be home by eleven or to call if we saw we were running late.

I didn’t have to spend fifteen seconds with her mom to see quickly ‘from whence’ Corrina got her graciousness, and Corrina responded in kind with, “We will, Mom,” but not in the usual teenage way.

It’s amazing, isn’t it!, how you can know a person through and through in fifteen seconds. I’ve never forgotten that, not in all these years.

With a quick hug of her mom, Corrina grabbed me by the hand – “That surprised me a tad,” I said to Cheyenne, with a smile that probably looked as if I had just won the lottery, which I did in a way, I guess – and in a flash we were hurrying out the door and down the brick steps to my car. I opened the passenger door for her, she jumped in like it was Christmas morning, and life had taken us by the hand as she, and I, and Sweet ‘65 were headed out on the very first date the three of us ever would have together, but not the last.

“Ah, no, not the last,” I said, teasing Cheyenne just a little.

“Cheyenne,” I said at that point, “you’ll know this but all of our readers won’t: All my cars and trucks through the years had to wear the name ‘Sweet,’ even though there are any number of variations that could be attached to the ‘Sweet’ – It could be Sweet Nova, Sweet NovaLee, Sweet Red, or even Sweet ‘65,’ which I really like.”

Cheyenne laughed at our affection for a sweet red ‘65 Nova who becomes a character in the novel and a symbol for true love, in a way, I guess.

This was a big evening for Sweet ‘65, because this was her first date, too. I mean, I had never opened her passenger-door for any young lady to jump in and go out. She was inexperienced in this thing; but, I have to say, she hummed her way through the whole night like a baby kitten and drove as smoothly as if she was riding on air, which, truth is, I think she was. I was afraid she’d be jealous and blow a tire or spin off a hubcap; but, no, she just went out that night and had the time of her life – just like the two youngsters riding up in the front seat.

Sweet ‘65 had a couple of advantages over cars nowadays. She did not have bucket seats as almost all vehicles do in the twenty-first century; and she did not have seatbelts. While the lack of bucket seats was not good for safety, it was good for allowing a young lady to ease over beside you when you drove; and you could even put your arm around her while driving if you got up the courage.

I did not put my arm around Corrina, though, for a couple of reasons. One, I wanted to drive extra carefully, because I had valuable cargo in Sweet ‘65; and, two, our dark-haired friend did not move over close enough. She wasn’t hugging the passenger door or anything like that, but she wasn’t hugging me, either, a circumstance I noticed as soon as I stepped into the car. I could not help but smile a little at it.

“What is it?” she asked, seeing the sheepish smile.

“Oh,” I said, pausing for effect, “I’m just happy that I’m sittin’ here in Sweet ‘65 with the prettiest girl in Alabama.”

She blushed a little, then snapped back,

“How about Georgia, sir?” raising her eyebrows.

“Oh, yes ma’am, Georgia, too,” I said with a laugh, “Georgia, Alabama, California, and Canada, and anywhere in between.”

My quick response seemed to please her, and I let out a little sigh and thanked the Lord right then that this first date for Corrina and me and Sweet ‘65 had started off perfectly.

Pretty soon we were turning left at crossroads at the old country store in Rock Mills and headed right on down the Roanoke Road without a care in the world.

We hadn’t gone hardly a mile when I glanced over and noticed Corrina had slid over just a little closer.

Coach Steven Bowen, a long-time Red Oak teacher and coach, now enjoys his time as a writer and preacher of the gospel. And, after a ten-year hiatus, he’s also returned to work with students at Ferris High School as well.

In addition to his evangelistic travels, he works and writes for the Church of Christ of Red Oak at Uhl Road and Ovilla. Their worship times are 10 a.m. Sundays and 6:30 pm. Wednesdays. Email coachbowen1984@gmail.com or call or text (972) 824-5197.