A is for ALLEGRO

It cost me twelve hundred of my hard earned student pounds (notes in those days), was the colour of mustard, though the makers called it 'harvest gold' and was 'blessed' with a square steering wheel, a contradiction in terms if ever I saw one. As all the good adverts say, it had only one careful owner, a nurse whom I recall inflicting pain on my grandmother from the safe end of a syringe and who always filled me with a slight dread when she came to visit. I'm not sure if it was her sharp voice, her shining fillings that sparkled at the front of her mouth or the fact that medical people only usually visit homes when something is wrong, but in any case I always watched her from afar. She had owned the Allegro for at least five years before it came to its new home and most of these, if not all, were after she had retired from causing fear and anxiety in the community, so she used it more as a convenience car to get her to the shops and the post office to extract her pension. Hence by the time it came into my possession,in the late summer, it had only a few thousand miles on the clock and was less than prepared for the testing times that lay ahead with its new owner. Gone was the slow meander down into the local village, the scenic drive to town, the gentle drizzle of Radio 3, the quiet evenings spent dozing in a warm garage, the occasional visit to a petrol station to replenish its thirst and the time to stop and say hello to neighbours. In its place was the constant stepping on its toes of an impatient right foot, the curiosity of where the needle on the speedometer stopped rising, the constant pounding of Fleetwood Mac on the four speaker stereo, the pungent aroma of a little fir tree hanging from the driver's mirror, the squealing of rubber on a tight corner and the smell of fear that usually followed. And the never ending miles, taking it to places it had only seen in local tourist brochures. But it coped with everything I threw in its direction and, despite still having my driving milk teeth, I took great care of it.

However, all good things eventually come to an end and, some three years and approximately sixty thousand miles later, it was time to part company. I was indeed sad to see it leave, but the writing was on the wall for some time and it had been found wanting.Initially it refused to get up without a gentle push, but when the push became more of a shove and the driver's door fell off, I understood that cars also reach the age of retirement from active duty and have a very precise way of letting you know their feelings. So when, on a return journey from the airport, the front wheel drive no longer drove and my girlfriend had to suffer the embarrassment of being towed home along the motorway, I knew I was in trouble, not least from my passenger.

I'm sure someone else managed to coax it into life for a few more journeys but I'm equally convinced that we enjoyed some great times and great music together as we travelled the province, even if a fast approaching stone bridge somewhere on a lane in County Tyrone, on a cold autumn evening, tested our powers of cooperation and coordination to the limit - man and machine in total harmony.

As I sit here, writing these memoirs, I am struck by the fact that new challenges are always ahead and it's how I handle them that is important. I think of Daniel and Joseph, thrust into new countries and new owners, among strange people with different languages and cultures and how they adapted to their new situations, rose to the challenges and overcame adversity. And I think of how their God was at the centre of their thinking so that they earned respect for their faithfulness, among the people and God used them as he had intended and cared for them as he promised. Whatever he calls us to do, let's be ready even if it takes us beyond our 'comfort zone' for that is where the real joy of following him will be found. Allegro is a musical term for lively and brisk. What sort of music are we making?