Peter and the Smokin' Car

I started my journey home from Massachusetts a bit later than I had planned because I found a pond that begged me to swim in it. Then I saw a farm with homemade ice cream...

Finally, I got back in my car at 5 p.m. to begin a seven hour drive, at the end of which I met Peter who miraculously fixed my car and reminded me of the first Pope.

At the ice cream shop, the man in line behind me suggested his favorite flavor, which I got. He told me the story of when he dove with a video camera to the bottom of the pond where I had swum.

“What’s down there?” I asked.

“Blackness,” he responded. 

I was mid-bite on a bench behind the ice cream shop when I witnessed a Corn Hole miracle. A dad tossed four bean bags in a row straight into the wooden board hole! I shook his hand on the way to my car.

The roads meandered by farms and lakes, little stone walls, deer and a raccoon family. My ride was an extra hour, but I avoided New York City traffic and tolls after I got the MapQuest app for my phone.

At one stop, I helped an Indian family with little English find their way to New York City. The mom took pictures of my cell phone directions with her smart phone.

The last stop I made was a couple hours later, out of necessity. I had crossed a few one lane bridges, and had just traveled down a gravel road when a new light shone on my dashboard, not to mention my car smelled like burning.

Yeah…so there was a lake on my right and was on a rural streetlight-less road. Even if I knew where I was, how would AAA even find me?

I prayed and drove. I only had an hour to go. Finally, I saw one open establishment: a bar.

Two men and two women sat at a table outside. I stopped the car, watched as it started smoking, and approached the table.

“Do any of you know about cars?” I asked.

“I know a little,” said one of the men.

He got up and looked under my hood. Then he checked my oil.

“Damn, that’s hot!” he shouted.

“Yeah…I’ve been on the road for seven hours.”  I discerned that he wasn’t drunk.

He pulled out his cell phone and called a friend.

No answer.

A minute later, the friend called back.

With no introduction, the man said, “Hey, I got a..." and named the make and model of my car as if it was broad daylight and he ran a mechanic shop (which he didn’t).

It was 11:30 p.m., but the friend not surprised with the car request. He answered the questions and hung up.

It turned out I had accidentally pushed a button on my gear shift to make the light go on, and I had too much oil in my car from when my engine was switched.

And the man who helped me had just switched the engine of another car…maybe he had more than a “little” experience.

Everything was solved in 5 minutes.

I was elated. The table cheered, “Welcome to Pennsylvania!”

I laughed. The whole time I thought I was in New Jersey.

As I left, I asked the man his name.

Peter.

That’s the miracle.

I had just come from a retreat where I meditated on Jesus’ call of Peter, “You are Peter and on this rock I will build my church.”

I thought, of course Jesus would have picked Peter. A common fisherman, who probably would have hung out a local bars and fixed people’s boats if they were leaking. Jesus gave him a new identity—in Himself-- and he impacted the whole world.