"Love Helps Those" by Paul Overstreet - Meandering thru Memories of '88

My attention focused on “Love Helps Those” (written and recorded by Paul Overstreet) when I began typing this column. Google says it hit the airwaves in 1988. My mind meandered down memory lane for a few moments. In ‘88 my son and I lived in Doniphan across from the elementary school. He was 9. I was a high school teacher. What was I driving? A robin’s egg blue Plymouth Fury Station Wagon. It was rather conspicuous in the teachers’ parking lot. Pouf! My topic switched to that blue tank.

My compact car had fizzled out between Poplar Bluff and Doniphan on a visit home from Moberly. Something about a blown gasket, water in the oil and a ruined motor. I needed a car pronto and was on the verge of panic when I asked for Dad’s help. I needed his love and guidance. He took me to Tipton’s in West Doniphan. There it sat sporting that beautiful blue color, one I like so much I would later paint our Victorian house on Summit Street the same shade. I HAD to drive it. It HAD to be okay. Mechanically it was sound and to my dad’s amazement, driving a big car after owning much smaller ones posed no particular problem.

I had some adventures in that blue tank licensed in MO as a pickup. One plate was stolen in TN on a brief visit. I was stopped TWICE by highway patrol between Memphis and Moberly for the missing plate. Good thing I had reported it so it could be verified that I was not the one driving a stolen vehicle. Back in Moberly on an errand for work I drove through a horrendous hail storm. Yes, there are hailstones as big as baseballs. Ouch. Insurance compensated me somewhat. Moberly winters were fierce, too, but snow and ice didn’t phase the tank. We made it to pre-school and work and back every time. Dad had taught me a thing or two about maneuvering on hazardous winter roads.

Making a move to TN was a cinch with that automobile. I packed it to the top and headed south. School was dismissed early one day due to snow. It was laughable - this blizzard was forecast to drop a whole two inches. Anthony, now a kindergarten expert in such things - wondered why the normally 12-minute trip home was taking so long. It took two hours. My Missouri experience, helped by the easy handling of the blue tank thanks to Dad’s loving instruction, meant I could stop and start as needed, and I needed to A LOT to stay out of the way of the Tennesseans sliding all over the interstate.The blue tank moved us back to Doniphan the following year. Kiddo and I took off to Webb City to visit Uncle Larry during deer season. At the end of that week, we timed the departure for home to perfectly coincide with the onset of a sleet/ice storm just before dark. Starting the tank that late afternoon was troublesome. As we hit the road, Anthony reminded me we had not said our prayer, so we said it on the way. Good thing. Later the volume on the radio would diminish and the headlights would grow dimmer - warning signals that eventually I would have neither. The car would quit. And quit it did. As we exited the car parked at a funny angle on the shoulder, a pickup with bearded hunters pulled overup ahead, then began backing slowly toward us. One of the good Samaritans got out and yelled diagnostic questions, then asked permission to come closer to check it out. He told me my alternator had quit, thus draining the battery. They had one they could switch with mine so mine would recharge enough to keep us warm while waiting for a ride down the road in Van Buren. They followed us to a pay phone in Winona so I could call Dad, explain the circumstances and ask him to meet us. (Lots of hollering and lecturing about traveling after dark with his grandson. That was love hollering). I was skeptical that a battery could recharge without the help of jumper cables, but it did indeed keep us warm after they switched them back. When Dad arrived - yep - more love buried in all the hollering and lecturing. The alternator was replaced and the blue tank served me well until I wore it out. (Over the years, Dad periodicallyshared that same loving lecture).

Had that truck of hunters not stopped, I am not sure where I thought we would go. We were quite a ways from anywhere; it was dark and cold and sleeting. What are the chances help would show up before we had our coats zipped and hats and gloves on, have just what we needed and the foresight to realize I would be extremely wary to accept it? That prayer we said on the road was not the only one said on that trip. My heavenly Father heard them. The scolding came later. “Love helps those who cannot help themselves.”