“I’m trying to build limos out of chevettes”
This is the quote Ricky sent me back in January, during those freezing cold days when he was busy working on a Tahoe he had recently bought. Ricky is truly a natural problem solver. I'm pretty confident he could take any old piece of junk and somehow turn it into a profitable opportunity. He always managed to have the most beautiful cars in his twenties, which was no surprise.
Ricky has always been my go-to guy whenever I couldn’t fix something on my own. If he didn’t immediately know how to handle a problem, he would take a moment, look it over carefully, and figure it out quickly and efficiently. I really miss that right now. I miss the comfort of being able to ask him a question and get an answer that, while it might have made me feel a little dumb at times, always taught me something valuable.
Ricky made sure I learned essential skills like driving a five-speed transmission, changing a flat tire, adding oil to my car, and even swapping out a headlight before he’d “allow” me to drive on my own. Sometimes, I find myself blaming him whenever I get irritated with Erik for trying to do something I feel perfectly capable of handling myself. In the end, I suppose Ricky really taught me the importance of being independent and self-reliant.
I remember once when I was a teenager, Ricky had a beautiful gray Nova. One day, he decided to drive it slowly along the entire guard rail down the steep mountain road. Not too long ago, I asked him about that day, curious about what had inspired such an ignorant move. He told me that he had taken something earlier that day, and it didn’t kick in until he was heading off the mountain. Feeling unsure and a bit out of control, he drove along the guardrail to “guide” him safely back down. When I was a teen, Ricky was often my “guardrail” in life. I’m not exaggerating—he’s been that steady presence for me even as an adult. There have been multiple times when he was the only one who could genuinely get through to me during difficult moments. Even when he didn’t want to point out how foolish I was being, he did it anyway, because he cared deeply and wanted to protect me.
Once, as a teenager, I drove to a dead-end road with the intention of meeting my ex-boyfriend, who my mom strongly wanted me to avoid. I succeeded in getting there, but on my way out, some reckless person had placed several large rocks—boulders, really—in the middle of the road. I hit them, blowing out three tires at once. Frustrated and stranded, I went into a local store and called my brother, who saved the day. The complication was, I didn’t have a spare tire—not even one. The car belonged to my second momma, and she was clear about her expectations: “You better get three tires on that car and have your A** at school in the morning.” Ricky and I drove all over Skyline that night in search of tires. Finally, he remembered an old man who lived in Pleasant Groves and owned a tire shop. Despite the thunderstorm and pouring rain, Ricky made me walk to the man’s house and knock on the door. I did it, and the man sold me three tires. That night, Ricky likely helped save my life, just as he has done on several other occasions.
The terrible things we’ve experienced—the loss, the pain, the struggles with addiction—none of it will ever erase the precious memories my family and I share. Ricky’s quote tonight reminded me that God is always working, trying to build leaders out of those moments, molding us through challenges and grace. Through every trial, His presence remains, guiding us like a guardrail along the mountain road of life.
God desires to transform sinners into devoted followers, victorious winners, and heartfelt praisers. These sinners include people like you and me, who stumble and fail on a daily basis, yet are continually embraced by His grace and love.
