Ever since I started driving a car, I have had a longing to own a ‘sports’ car, and I pretty well knew the details. It would be a roadster, a two seater with a convertible top.  
I spotted it one fall weekend parked beside the road with a FOR SALE sign prominently displayed on the windshield.  The color was not very important, but it had to fit the image and this one did: it was bright yellow with black upholstery.  Check.  I preferred something foreign and this one was British, a Jensen Healey.  Check.  It did not have a history of being owned by an little old maid school teacher, but its ownership credentials were close; it was owned by a college professor, a conservative, 50s math teacher not one who would neglect such a toy.  But his interests had changed and his loss was my gain.  I should have placed a question mark after the word ‘gain’.
But this column is NOT especially about a car but rather it’s about choice.  I had a choice to walk away from the deal but at the time, I was helpless to say no.  Ownership was seemingly unavoidable despite the many objections that entered my mind only to be pushed out of the way by irrationality.  In retrospect, I didn’t know what was good for me, so the decision to own the car simply won over common sense.  Naturally there were predictable consequences.
I read in a Presbyterian publication recently a series of articles dealing with the topic:  Would you like to live to be 100? Let’s assume that to reach that level of maturity, you would obviously and knowingly encounter the expected rages of time on your body; nevertheless, would you still want to give it a go? Or like the sports cart buyer, would you act impulsively now and think about the future down the road and accept the challenge despite the inevitable consequences?
Barring the moral and theological elements dealing with the Divine Plan for your life, would you still cast aside any possible concerns and go for it no matter what.  But like for the car buyer, there inevitably would be later regrets.
Something about you or a car you might own is bound to break down whether flesh or metal. Maybe you are enjoying life at 75 with no unusual warnings from the doctor.  That’s basically what the mechanic said when asked about the car’s general health; it’ll easily run 100,000 miles with proper care.
Perhaps with available parts, this might be true but what about your body parts?  Know where you might get a slightly used liver, heart or lung?  And if so, will your bank account agree?
Then too, unlike the impersonal car, would you want to be the sole survivor of your family, church or class? At age 100, would you care even if you could still remember?
Self preservation is built into us and perhaps for most, there is a longing for even more  days above ground even though it’s highly risky anytime but especially when you reach for 3 digits’ worth of years.
As for me, I learned a le$$on or two by owning my dream car.  I doubt that I will be around to know about living to be 100 with all of its lessons to be learned.
But I’m willing if my Maker is.
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Bill Lee, PO Box 128,
Hamer, SC 29547