Ancient Peoples would Worship our Car

I’ve got a car that you could build a religion on. Its name is Dently. He is a wonder car, most of the time.

There isn’t anything he can’t carry. Seriously. He not only moves half a dozen children in all types of weather, he’s transported bikes, bunk beds, a disassembled swing set, a thousand pounds worth of Ikea furniture, and a piano. With a little imagination, some hard work and enough tie downs, Dently could relocate Grant’s tomb.

Dently has taken us everywhere. One crazy summer he took us from our old home next to the Pacific Ocean to the our new home of 10,000 Lakes, then in a spur of the moment decision back west to the Great Salt Lake and home again. Since then, we’ve gone to the headwaters of the Mississippi, Utah and back, again, and to and from South Dakota a dozen times. Because of him we've seen Mille de Lac and it's giant fiberglass fish and Lake Latoka in Alexandria with Big Ole (Ollie) the giant fiberglass Viking.

He’s a survivor too, from a snowy freeway spinout to outright crashes (neither of them our fault) Dently has overcome. When he had his window smashed on a cold winter day he still got Debbie and Max to the airport on time. He’s a fighter, ready to repel any vicious poles by pushing them away with his fenders and doors if they attack (which they have) in various parking structures.

Really, our Dently can do anything!, except, of course, start.

Sadly, for the last year Dently has had a major glitch. From time to time, when we load up and try to go Dently’s engine turns over and then off. The first couple of times this happened I freaked out and called the mechanic. He towed Dently and started him up at the garage. He could find absolutely nothing wrong with our super car.

Several false alarms and dollars later, we’ve learned that if this happens, just let Dently sit for an hour, then try it again. He’ll be right as rain.

No one knows why. Not my wonderful, reasonable, local mechanic or the crazy expensive, national chain guys.

So here’s where we get superstitious: whatever happened right before the breakdown must be the cause! The boys were pretending to drive him a minute ago and now we can’t pick up Emma from summer camp, NO TOUCHING THE STEERING WHEEL UNTIL THE ENGINE’S STARTED! The gas tank is almost empty and now I’m sitting in the grocery store parking lot watching the ice cream melt, NEVER LET THE TANK GO PAST HALF FULL!

We’ve been obeying all the rules. Keeping the doctrine of Dently, but this past week he reminded us that false gods can be fickle and cruel.

After loading up all my kids plus friends for a picnic at the park Friday morning, Dently refused to start.
Fine. We waited the hour. No go.
A night and a call to the booked-over-the-weekend-mechanic. No go.
Another night and frantically teaching Taran to ride a bike. No go.
Another night and a bus ride with five kids to church. No go.
Monday morning while dialing the tow truck on the phone. It GOES!

Ancient peoples would give offerings of oil and supplications: Oh great Dently, conveyor of all that is… Please start!



Hey, he's even got cows.
Why are they there? Now that's a whole 'nother post.