My Car Was Stolen

I remember the day I first saw her. One of the last Proton Iswara sedan's to leave the assembly line. It was a downcast October evening at a Proton dealership in Taman Megah, Petaling Jaya. The salesman Mr Ong was a friend and all he asked me was "how much down-payment do you have?". He showed me the car and it was love at first sight. An Iswara? Love at first sight? You have got to be joking..

The car and I went through so much together. I remember the day I dented the left fender while parking. I remember the repairs, the maintenance, washing the car, the trips and drives all over the place. I remember the time I sent an accident victim to the hospital, the time I carried six people in the car, I remember the good times and the not-so-good times.

Last weekend, at Jalan Gasing around 10.30pm, the car was stolen. Strangely enough, I was calm until I started dealing with the police. Their "tidak-apa" (not-too-bothered) attitude sickened me. From the spelling mistakes in the report to the fact that all three photocopiers in the station are not working, the impression I got was not a good one at all.

Needless to say, I went home an angry man that night. The brunt of the anger taken out on my bed which broke into two from a well placed kick (to the dismay of my wife). I informed Pastor Allan that I was not to do the usual pick up run for church the next day. He told me not to worry and he will take care of it. Little did I know that God was about to use this occasion to display His awesome power. Pastor Allan started praying that the car be found and little Jekhan (his 6 year old son) being upset because his uncle Darryl's car was missing, prayed specifically that the car be found in front of his house.

Lo and behold, I receive a call from Pastor Allan the next morning. He was excited and telling me that the car was parked in front of his house. Hope was filling my heart and I couldn't stop smiling when I saw the car parked there. Jekhan was viewing his handiwork from the back window of his dad's car. I saw him waving a thumbs-up and a crisp military salute in my direction, which I promptly replied. That young man earned my respect. The next thing I did was to open the boot and yes, as expected, the toolbox was missing. A collection that spanned over 20 years was gone. That toolbox was complete with every tool needed to perform an overhaul. The tools were specifically chosen and not made up of random sets.

I would be lying if I said that it does not affect me today. I am still angry knowing that my tools (purchased with my hard earned money) is somewhere out there. However, I have decided not to allow this setback to get me down. Tool's can be purchased again but a testimony like this? It is too good to be kept to myself.
To God be all glory. My car was found and I realize that God honored the prayer of a fine young man. Seriously, what are the chances of a stolen car actually being recovered? It is usually driven to a secluded spot and stripped down within hours.

Now, I have to fit a new lockset and replace the damaged steering column. Figuring out what tools to buy etc is quite the unnecessary chore at my 'grand old age'. The "roaring fire" I felt in my late teens and 20's have now been reduced to glowing embers and the rebuilding task seems cumbersome. However, I feel a faint glow of hope growing again. Who knows, this could be me re-visiting my young man's days again or could it be the onset of the dreaded mid-life crisis?