I found a scribbled note with “Silver Linings” written at the top. Below that I’d mentioned a long-ago example – a vehicle mishap involving David Fullington. We’ll get to that after covering a little background. 

David’s been a good friend since first grade at Pinehurst Elementary. He helped create some lasting memories there, like the gopher turtle he brought to school. The big fellow, who lived in David’s yard, was the star of recess. If we’d had “Show and Tell” David would have won. 

Another Pinehurst memory is from third-grade when I was the preacher in “A Tom Thumb Wedding.” Two second graders, Debra Peavy and Alex Everett, were the lucky couple. I don’t remember the play, just David’s unscripted line during our one rehearsal.

Debra was cute as pie and David had aspirations of becoming her boyfriend. Rehearsal was going fine until it was time for me to say, “You may kiss the bride.” David became the worst best man ever. “You better not kiss her,” he warned Alex. I guess our teacher overheard. The kissing scene was deleted. 

One more memory, then we’ll get to the main event. David and I were sophomores at Unadilla High School when we went on a double date in his 1958 Ford Galaxie. His Uncle, Tommy Davis, dealt in used cars and had sold him what seemed a fine ride for a country boy of sixteen.   

The black paint was shiny and the interior spotless. Even the engine was sparkling clean. David wanted to make a big impression on the gorgeous young lady and that’s what he did. She gasped when hot water spewed from under the dash onto her ankles. The burn wasn’t serious, but Cupid’s arrow was no match for a faulty heater core. Their first date was also their last.   

Now to the vehicle mishap. One afternoon during our senior year, David and I were in my 1964 Chevy Impala on the way to his house. As I turned off the highway onto the unpaved Lonesome Pine Road, the front end slid into the ditch. We laughed, thinking my careless driving had gotten us stuck in the sand.

We walked to David’s house to get a chain but only found a short rope in his father’s shop. David tied it to his car bumper and pulled on mine, which accomplished nothing except to destroy the rope. His father came home from work and saw that a tie rod had come loose on my car, which had rendered the steering wheel useless. Mr. John, a professional mechanic, adeptly fixed the problem. He then noticed the shredded strands on the shop floor.

With a mischievous grin he said to Daivd, “You little s.o.b. – You broke my favorite rope.” His colorful words were spoken with affection and tickled two teenage boys. That oddly tender moment still reminds me that love is sometimes expressed in unconventional ways. 

Over the years David and I have shared multiple laughs about that afternoon. A lot of time passed, though, before I saw a silver lining. If that tie rod had come loose in a different place or time, it could have been a sad occasion instead of a humorous one.

I don’t know if God regularly intervenes in everyday matters or lets things work out in the natural order of his creation. What I do know is this. I treasure good memories made with old friends, and I’m thankful for silver linings, even those I fail to see.