A Brat Saved by Grace
I’m a romantic. I admit it. My wife laughs at me because I tear up when I hear a sad song. Have you ever heard a song and it’s as if someone was telling your life story?
Today I’m going to tell you about something that happened to me which is exactly described in the 1972 song “Don’t Expect Me to be Your Friend” by Lobo. Look it up!
My story happened in 1983 and concerns an older woman, my attempt to impress her, and a Brat.
I’m a drummer and had just come off the road from a tour. As we all know drums are a chick magnet, but for some odd reason, I was still single.
Since I was no longer a touring drummer I knew I’d need something else to impress women. In typical male fashion, I thought, “of course, I need a fancy car!”
Most drummers aren’t known for being rich, so unfortunately my choice of supercars was somewhat limited.
Actually, I could only afford a used supercar.
Actually, I could only afford a used car.
Actually, I could only afford a used Subaru.
Actually, it wasn’t really a car at all, it was a 1979 Subaru Brat.
Actually, it wasn’t just any Brat, it was a Brat that had been wrecked and then rebuilt.
Actually, that’s the only reason I could afford it at all.
The Brat was a small 4-wheel drive pickup imported by Subaru. The early models were ubiquitous because they had two rearward-facing jump-seats in the pickup bed.
Around this time, there was a woman who attended the same church as I did, and her name was, appropriately enough, Grace. Grace was beautiful, smart, and an older woman. I was 24 and she was clear up in her 30s.
I guess when a woman reaches such a mature age, fancy cars, as Shania Twain told us, just don’t impress them much. Conversely, however, and very fortunate for me, is that used Subarus don’t dissuade them much.
Grace agreed to go out with me despite the fact I had jump-seats in my bed.
We got together for ice cream, a few meals together, and hours in her apartment delving into deep, theological discussions. During one visit I noticed her record player needed a new needle. I quietly put that thought away for future reference. After all, Valentine’s Day was just around the corner…
One day, after a heavy rain, I had the brilliant idea of taking Grace on a four-wheeling adventure in my Brat. Mud, ruts, deep pools of water, an unreliable Subaru Brat — what could go wrong?
You know those cartoons where there’s a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other? I think the Angel was telling me, “baaad idea!” But all I heard was the devil saying, “This will really impress her!”
Grace, obviously unfamiliar with 1979 Subaru Brats, cheerfully agreed to the excursion.
We drove into the woods and bounced along the pot-hole-filled trails. I was feeling pretty good about how well the Brat was performing, and I couldn’t help thinking, “She’s got to be impressed now. I’m pretty impressive! This will definitely take our relationship to the next impressive level!”
Just about then I saw some water ahead. “No problem,” I thought, “I have four-wheel drive!”
Besides, my date’s name was Grace and we met in church, so at the very least I was sure I could simply glide over the surface, or maybe the water would part and I’d drive right through the middle of it. How deep could it be?
Pretty deep, it turned out.
The Brat plunged into the water, sank about 3 feet, and died.
The water was almost over the hood. I was just glad the door seals were holding up so at least we could stay dry. For a while.
I looked at Grace, and she looked at me. Saying out loud what I was thinking, she asked, “now what?”
If I had been by myself, I’m sure I would have just crawled out the window, sloshed through the mud, and called a tow truck. But because Grace was there, and because I had some ridiculously unrealistic idea I might still be able to impress her, I wracked my brain for some way to get out of this predicament.
I know if it weren’t for her, I would have just given up at that point.
But I kept thinking, and then I remembered something I had read in a car magazine.
In my most impressive voice, I said, “Don’t worry, Grace, I have everything under control.”
I put the car in first gear and turned the ignition switch and kept it on.
Sure enough, the starter motor was strong enough to gradually pull the car up and out of the pit.
Feeling quite proud of myself, even a little impressed, I informed Grace all we had to do now was wait for the motor to dry out, and we’d be on our way! I wish I could say we steamed up the windows to help dry out the motor, but at that point it’s safe to say our relationship was as stalled as the Subaru.
A few days later, I thought I’d better do something nice for Grace to make it up to her, so I stopped by her apartment with that brand new needle.
“Chris, what are you doing here?”
I proudly showed her the impressive new needle. It was at that moment I realized there was a strange man on her couch.
“Chris, this is Tom.”
I shook his hand, and couldn’t help but notice he was much older than I was. He might have been just a little more impressive, too.
I think he drove a Mercedes.
Grace and I never dated again, but I’ll never forget how on that final drive we took together, my Brat was, amazingly, saved by Grace.
