I've Never Seen a Roof Rack on a Hearse

Cathy Maziarz shares how letting go of our possessions reminds us to stay unattached and that we are not of this world.

I am standing outside shielding my eyes from the early summer sun and saying goodbye to a dear friend of mine. He stands before me in desperate need of a good wash … but I know there is a treasure buried beneath the layers of dirt. He did not make it out of the barn on his own power, but I know that once life is put back into him, he will outshine the best of them. As the summer heat clings to my skin, I am clinging to the memories that lie beneath those layers, a record of history like rings on a tree.

Beach trips with my 7-year-old nephew bundled in towels riding shotgun beside me. The winter rides when Mom and I had to shovel snow out of his back and pour hot water on the frozen seatbelts. My dad and I at the MVA, and the irony of the plates given to him, ACE 54R, which not only echoed my military path but the fact that I was dad’s “ace of a daughter.”

I continue to smile as I think of the first time with him in the city and being pulled over by a cop for driving over a median. I tried explaining to the officer that I was a country girl and was only used to off-roading and not driving on city streets (a favorite story of my husband’s, since it occurred on the way home from one of our first dates.).

There was always a risk with him on these adventures but that came with the unbreakable trust I had in him. No airbags, no roof, no doors. With him I was free … my spirit soared as we roamed the city streets, the mountains of Virginia, and the dunes of Maryland. As I continued to brush away the dirt in my mind, I could see all the joy and all the life lived that he had given to me.

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Soon I hear the rumble of a tow truck creeping up my driveway, pulling me out of my memories … away from the rings of dirt.

“Hey, good morning, ma’am.” The Virginia accent and warm Southern manners sweep over me as I step towards the red-bearded man who has hopped down from his big rig.

“Morn’n,” I say, my Maryland accent now tinged with Virginia after living here for eight years; it’s like taking a bowl of Maryland Blue Crab soup and adding a side of barbeque sauce.

“I’m Cathy,” I continue as I walk over to shake the man’s hand.

The driver props his sunglasses on top of his ball cap, as a smile breaks through the thick beard that trails down his chest, “James, nice to meet you.”

His eyes widen as they move past me and over to him. He approaches slowly and places a hand on him, wiping away some of the dirt, and revealing a shine of black chrome.

“Sorry, he’s a little dirty,” I stutter, worried that I should have at least given him a rinse.

“I would be sorry if he wasn’t dirty,” James says as he continues to smile. “These are not meant to be clean … you and him are authentic.” I look down at my mud boots and smile at the brown clay caked on the sides. I was always one to welcome the dirt; I felt it was the mark of a day truly lived.

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James slowly circles him, inspecting every inch with reverence as if he were an archeologist at a dig site. He begins to rattle off details of the ancient artifact: the engine size, the original all-terrain tires, the square headlights. James knows his cars—a scientist who has spent years dissecting them and putting them back together like fossilized bones.

“Wow … the original frame, original wheels … you don’t see that anymore!”

“Yeah,” I reply as all I can see are the memories.

“Why are you getting rid of this? This is a relic … do you realize what you have?”

I place my hand on him, as I look over at James who is now standing back and rubbing a thoughtful hand through his beard.

“Yeah … I know … and thanks for making this harder,” I smile as I glance over at James. I appreciate that he appreciates the treasure I have, but I was now wavering over my decision.

Holding my tears back, I continue, “My husband and I just found out that we have to move within the next couple of months. I was holding on to this to restore it, but now I don’t even know where we are going to be … so I am deciding to donate it.”

James nods his head, “Sorry to hear about that, it’s really cool though that you are giving it away …”

“Well, where I plan to eventually end up … I won’t be able to take this with me …” James glances over at me as I hold up my silver crucifix dangling from my neck.

James nods in agreement and then bows his head, “I have never seen a roof rack on a hearse.”

We both smile at each other in a moment of understanding and shared faith.

Silence steps in next to us as we both look at him while thinking of Him. Him … my God. The One whom I will return to one day. I will return to my Father alone … my spirit unattached from the earth and earthly possessions.

Think of what is above, not of what is on earth. (Colossians 3:2)

“Well, let’s get this over with.” James' eyes are filled with empathy and kindness.

I step aside as James does his thing. He locks the steering wheel in place, puts the stick shift in neutral, and attaches harnesses and chains. Within minutes, he is hooked in and ready for the tow.

We say our goodbyes as I whisper a prayer for James and for the next person who will make new memories in a treasure that I had here on earth. That person will wipe away the dirt and allow the black chrome to shine through. The engine will roar with adventure as the wheels will make new treads across sand, city, and trail. More life will be lived in my 1994 Jeep Wrangler.

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Click to tweet:
God wants us to enjoy what He gives us while we spend our short time here on earth; however, we must remain unattached to our earthly possessions. #CatholicMom

I watch the back tire of the Jeep fade down the driveway, thinking of what James had said and how that simple phrase sums up our physical life here on earth. “I’ve never seen a roof rack on a hearse.” God wants us to enjoy what He gives us while we spend our short time here on earth; however, we are not of this world and we must remain unattached to our earthly possessions. It will all be left behind. All the “stuff” in our lives can suffocate us and pull us away from the important things that we should focus on leaving behind … our love, our energy, and our time with others.

Prayer: Dear God, may I walk with one foot on earth, and one in heaven. May I practice unattachment to the things of this earth while at the same time gratitude towards You for the earthly things that bring us joy. May I focus on what I should leave behind.

The bodies of irrational animals are bent toward the ground, whereas man was made to walk erect with his eyes on heaven, as though to remind him to keep his thoughts on things above. (Augustine of Hippo, City of God)

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