Can You See the Elk????

Broke my own rule about not riding in weather under 20 degrees and went out today. Reason was I had told Steve, Kerry and Eric I would be there. My ride was later this morning, at 7 instead of 6. You would think it might be a little bit warmer at that time, but it wasn't.

When I left my house this morning it was 16 degrees, foggy and so cold that when you breathe your nostrils stick together. As I rode up to our meeting point all I could think was "if those guys don't show up I am going to ride up the hill and across to home." I got to our meeting point a little early so I rode around in circles waiting for them to arrive. It reminded me when you are a kid and you are waiting outside your friends house to come out so you can go and play.


After about 5 minutes of riding in circles Kerry showed up, and decided we would go. We left, but it wasn't long before Eric snuck up behind us and Steve blazed down another rode in front of us. I have to thank Eric for sneaking up behind us, I definitely needed that scare to get my blood flowing.


Our ride today was up water tower road, and down roller road. The ride up was pretty good, there was only one slick spot where a bunch of people had rode their sleds. That was my only up hill spin out of the ride.


At the top of water tower road we continued on the flat part. We had only gone a short distance when we saw a large herd of elk going single file up the hills above the Provo Race Course. It was the most amazing sight I had seen. There were over 145 elk walking in a line. I took a picture and as you can see I was not close enough for you to get the full visual affect. I cropped it so you can get a blurry view. Can you see where line of elk are?


Our ride continued up to where the elk where crossing. Steve was lucky and got to see the last 8 elk in the line. I was too slow to see them up close, but we rode a little further and were able to see them up on top of the ridge. I have never seen that many elk in my life, so it was worth it to get up and ride in the freezing cold--that may be a sight I might not get to see again.


At the end of the service road we had a choice we could go down what is known as roller road, or go back the way we came. The road looked good to me, so I opted to go down. This turned out to not be the easiest way, but it definitely was fun.


The road was not as snowy as it looked, it was actually very icy. I went down rather slow, and Steve was very patient and waited every so often to make sure I was okay. I appreciated this. The funny part was one of the times he chose to wait was right after I had slid out and fell into a snow bank. Had he looked back one minute earlier he would have seen a very funny sight.

After my snow bank incident I decided it was safer to ride with one foot in my pedal and one foot out. This turned out to work well and I made it down the hill with no more snow bank falls.


Interesting note. I mentioned it was 16 degrees when we started riding. As we rode up the mountain the temperature increased to 21 degrees, and then when we came back down it was 15 degrees. I find it weird that it is warmer up high. It made it a little hard to come down the hill as I wanted to stay where it was warm.

Our ride ended on the Provo trail and then home. Other than freezing cold you couldn't have asked for a better ride and what a great opportunity to see so many elk.

**BTW thanks Steve for hooking up my wireless router. Thanks to you I was able to watch 9 year olds play while we waited for midnight to come.

All By Myself

When I first started riding I rode by myself all the time. I loved it. I would go out everyday to ride my bike. I thought it was great and loved how much fun I had riding. However, since I have met more mountain bikers, I have discovered that I enjoy riding with others.

With the holidays and every one's work scheduled changed, except mine, I have been getting up early and riding by myself. There has been a lot of cool things I have seen while riding. For example today and yesterday I saw a deer run across the road. This may not seem like a big deal, but the deer was only about 3 blocks east of State Street. Further up the road where I would expect to see deer I did, however instead of running away the deer watched as I rode my bike huffing and puffing up the hill. I am sure the deer was trying to figure out what strange creature with the bug headed light was going up the road. I was surprised the deer stayed and watched as it was only about 2 feet away from me when I passed.

Later on the ride I got to prove Kerry's explanation of how a bike goes down on the ice. Kerry has told me when you ride on ice you can go down so quickly you won't know what hit you. He was right. Today I rode snow up the road, but on the way down I found several ice patches. When I hit the first ice patch my bike tire slid sideways, and around. I went down so quickly I ended up turned around on the hill. Lucky for me there was snow on the ground so my landing was somewhat soft. The next 2 ice patches I stayed upright, but did a little shoe dance on the ice to keep my balance. It's too bad Kerry and the others missed as I am sure I would have been the comedic relief for the morning.

As much as I have enjoyed the alone time, and it does bring back fond memories, I do miss the group rides and look forward the holidays ending soon so I can have someone to ride with in the mornings.

The Gift of Love

SILENT NIGHT IN THE WIND

It was Christmas? It happened nearly 50 years ago, but what an impact on my memory. My dad is one in a million, but that Christmas he was one in a universe.

There were seven of us children, anticipating our Christmas Eve social, which was held annually in our little community. We were chattering and laughing incoherently even though this was our fist Christmas without Mama and money.

**********

As my dad helped us button our coats, my heart was singing. His was breaking. But his smile was deceiving. How well I remember him tenderly placing us on our long, homemade sleigh and pulling us to the church about a mile away. I remember him marching straight ahead with his shoulders back and chin up-I know now he was stepping off into something that took a lot of courage. As grown-ups, we draw on these memories s a source of strength. It was snowing. How good it felt on our faces. We held tight to each other, and above the church of snow beneath Father's feet, we could hear him softly whistling "Silent Night." Like magic, my unglued world was coming together.

How could a girl of nine, spilling with Christmas delight, possibly know the inner turmoil my care-worn dad was silently suffering? Mama had gone to the great Beyond that previous summer. She had been confined to her bed for three years. We were so poor, so dad had assumed all father-mother responsibilities, as well as being Mama's nurse. He would leave his blacksmith shop hourly to check on her and us kids. His patience and love for Mam were a beacon of inspiration to us. Many times I saw him affectionately carrying her in his strong arms.

I remember his standing me on a stool by our big round kitchen table and teaching me to mix bread. I also learned how to turn the handle of our old wooden churn, while anticipating the miracle that was always performed inside. I got quite proficient at working the butter with the old wooden paddle, then pressing it into the round mold. He taught me many household duties, but none as vivid as helping Mama. I was her feet. I carted her food and water and helped her bathe. I delivered handmade gifts all over the community-from Mama. I don't think she ever missed a birthday, a wedding or a new baby. Then came that June day, her birthday, when God gave her the blessed gift of relief. My dad was left to keep us alive physically, mentally and spiritually.

In August following Mama's death came our big fire. Our barns, sheds, straw and hay stacks, as well as our livestock were caught in the path of the fiery destruction leaving only a charred, smoldering heap. Fear and horror raced through my veins. But the most indelible part of all was my dad. While his world was crumbling to ashes, he was trying to rescue ours. He had a way of calming the tempest.

Now Christmas was upon him. We weren't even aware of how poor we were or of his Gethsemane. I felt his superior strength that night was he pulled the sleigh carrying his precious cargo.

The only thing I remember about the social was all the children clamoring to tell Santa what they wanted for Christmas. But the sleigh ride was an imprinted memory. It was special therapy that brought a kind of peace I hadn't known for years.

Later in our front room around our pot-bellied stove, Dad served us warm milk bread. Our little Christmas tree, brought from the nearby hills, adorned one corner. Strings of our home-raised popcorn made it the most beautiful tree I had ever seen or smelled.

Then dad told us he was ready to give us our Christmas gift. We thought he should wait until morning, but he in his wisdom knew now was the time. We sat in wonderment. Seven of us waiting for Dad's gift.

Then he started talking. His gift flowed freely and clear from his lips. He told us how much he loved us and how much we meant to him. Then he told us of the Christ child. Never have I heard such a story! He brought it to life! He gave it purpose and meaning. Why Webster couldn't define the beauty of the gift he planted in our hearts that night. That gift of love, gratitude and peace is still mine. The light and warmth of the room was curiously powerful. We felt Mama's presence. We learned that loving someone was far more important than having something. I knew the true meaning of Christmas? We knelt together in a most humble family prayer, and we thanked God for his gift to us the Savior of our world. Outside, the world was singing "Silent Night" as our dad tucked us in bed.

Christmas day was a most special day. Dad had made each of us a little gift and hung it on the tree while we slept. Our Christmas dinner consisted of home-cured bacon and milk gravy. And had a way of making a one-dish meal tasted like a seven course dinner. Our happiness knew no bounds. Many times since, my memory has been my Bethlehem star. I have heard "Silent Night" in the wind and have smelled bacon while my turkey was cooking. But best of all an occasional glimpse of Christ shining in my 90-year old father's face.

I think....

I might want to invest in studded tires. I went for a ride early this morning, and was going fine until I turned the wrong direction. I quickly realized my mistake and turned to head back the other direction. As soon as I turned my bike slide to the ground. Apparently it was very icey where I was riding. I don't know if studded tires will help, but I think I might give it a try. Here is the result of my take down. Not sure if I needed stiches or not, but since all of the skin came off I think it was too far apart to stich. Oh well, it will make a great scar.

The Gift of Life

The Greatest Yule Gift of All

It was Christmas Eve, 1923, when the incident took place. It was back on our farm in Orange, PA. I was a 7 year old girl then. After all the evidence people still didn't believe it happened, but it did.

"We need more firewood," I can again hear my mother saying to my father. "In a week it will be Christmas Eve. When you're sitting pretty smoking your pipe in front of your fire with no more logs to burn, you'll get angry at me."

"Woman" he replied, "I'll fetch your fire wood." My father bundled himself up, took his rifle, walked to the barn for his ax and saw and hitched up the horse to the sled. "Can I come along?" I shyly asked.

It was a bright day. My father was in a good mood. "Ah, my Tessie, my sweet Tessie, yes come along if you wish."

The horse pulled the sled through the snow covered forest. My father knew where a few fallen tress were located. He found the dried logs under snow and quickly went to work.

Suddenly there was a stillness. I no longer heard my father chopping or sawing fire wood. When I looked up, I saw him standing motionless and silently staring. I followed the direction of his eyes.

At first, I thought the figure was a dog, but from my father's seriousness I knew it must be something more. Then my father broke his stillness and went to the sled for his rifle. I looked at the grey orange animal standing in the clearing, staring at my father and me. I was not moving but not afraid. I said to my father, "What is it Daddy?"

"It's a wolf honey. They've been gone from this area for 50 years but there it stands."

"What do you plan to do?"

"Shoot it, so don't move."

I watched as my father got into position and raised his rifle. Even at seven I knew what killing was all about. I walked beside him and pulled on his jacket.

"Honey, don't do that!"

"But Daddy," I said, "why are you shooting it ?" "Why are you shooting the pretty dog?"

"It's not a dog, hone, it's a wolf."

"But the wolf isn't harming us, daddy."

I watched as my father looked back at the wolf, then down at me. There were no livestock missing at our place.

"I suppose you're right, Tess."

I gazed at the wolf. It was still standing there strangely, almost mystically staring.

"Your lucky wolf, that Tess was here today to protect you."

The wolf boldly took a last look at my father and me, then scampered away up into the deep forest.

My father said nothing more. He returned to his work, finished and we rode home.

On Christmas Eve, our house was ready. The relatives started arriving and there was kissing, hugging and gifts exchanged. Yet, I was getting bored with all the commotion. What I wanted to do was open my gifts which were under the tree, but mother said I had to wait.

I asked "Mommy, can I go out and play for a while?"

She was occupied with other matters. "All right, but stay around the house. Your father says a storm's coming."

I bundled myself up and was quickly out in the Christmas Eve snow. I wandered toward the woods. Before I realized it, night was nearly upon me. It was a silent twilight, then suddenly the storm hit. One second the forest was calm and peaceful, and the next the wind was blowing heavily falling snow in my face, blinding me. The wind was biting. It was getting colder and darker. I started immediately for home, but every step was a struggle. I kept walking for what seemed like hours, and finally in desperation I started shouting "Mommy, Daddy, help me"

I don't know how long I walked around that night in the hills of Orange, but finally exhausted, I stumbled under pine tree branches and closed my eyes. I was still too young to understand such concepts as death, so I didn't know I was dying, I was slowly freezing to death.

Suddenly I felt a strange weight upon me, and also a welcome warmth. It was an effort to open my eyes, but when I did I thought someone had covered me with some sort of grey orange blanket. But then I saw that it wasn't a blanket, but the dog my father and I had seen the week before-the dog my father had called a wolf.

Strangely, I wasn't frightened, but relieved that I wasn't cold any more. The heat the animal gave off started to warm me while the cruel Pennsylvania blizzard blew. On that Christmas Eve, I was rocked gently to sleep by the heat of the animal my father had almost shot.

The next time I opened my eyes, I heard my father's voice calling, "Tessie, Tessie."

It was light out. The wind was no longer blowing and the snow had stopped.

Then I saw the wolf. It was standing near me, shaking the snow off it's back. Suddenly it's ears shot straight up as my father's voice called out again.

The wolf took one last glance at me, then quickly disappeared.

"Daddy," I said weakly, "here."

I saw my father's face staring down at me. He was crying. He said, "Thank God she's still alive."

When I opened my eyes again, I as in my own bed, warm at last. My mother was sitting at the side of the bed, gently stroking my forehead. My father was standing by her, and he said, "It's a miracle she's alive. But all practical reasoning, she should have frozen out there."

"The dog, Daddy," I said weakly, "The dog we saw in the woods. When you were chopping and sawing, Daddy. The dog was with me. The dog kept me warm all through the night."

"She's saying a wolf kept her alive? The day we went wood cutting and she came along, she stopped me from shooting a wolf. I think she is saying the wolf kept her warm through the night."

"Yes," I said, "It was the wolf."

"Impossible" my mother said

"There's only one way to find out." my father replied. "I'm going back to the place where I found her."

When he returned, he confirmed my story. Indeed, he had found a wolf's tracks there.

I've never forgotten that Christmas Eve with the wolf warming me and rocking me gently to slepp in that bitter blizzard, giving me the greatest Christmas gift of all-life.

The Gift of Kindness

The Gift

Jan Cook and her husband lived for three years in Africa, in deepest Africa where "The Gods Must Be Crazy" was filmed. His work had taken them and their three small children there, and any church meetings they attended took place in their own living room with only themselves as participants. By their third Christmas, Jan was very homesick. She confessed this to a good friend, a Mennonite. Jan told her how she missed her own people, their traditions, even song. Her friend sympathized and invited her to go with her next month to the Christmas services being held in the only Protestant Church in the area, saying that there would be a reunion there of all the Mennonite missionaries on the continent.

It took some talking for Jan to persuade her husband, but there they were, being swept genially to the front of the small chapel. It felt good, being in a church again on Christmas. The minister gave a valuable sermon on Christ; the congregation sang familiar carols with great vitality. Then at the very end of the meeting, a choir of Mennonite missionaries from all over Africa rose from their benches and made their way to stand just in front of Jan and her family. Without a word, they began singing. Without a leader, without music, without text, they sang "Come, Come, Ye Saints." Every verse.

Disbelieving, totally taken by surprise, Jan and her husband drenched the fronts of their Sunday best with being carried home on Christmas. When the choir finished, Jan's friend said simply. "For you, our gift."

Jan's Mennonite friend had sent to Salt Lake City for the music to the hymn that she knew Jan loved. She had it duplicated and distributed to every Mennonite missionary in Africa. They, in turn, had learned it very carefully in order to bring the spirit of Christ to their own reunion, where foreigners to their faith would be waiting to hear.

Emma Lou Tayne

The Gift of Brotherhood

The Carol That Never Was Sung

The first Christmas Eve, of course, was a very important event.
The birthday of the Child called for the biggest celebration the Heavenly
Hosts had ever had. Even the Carols, held in reserve for ages for some
really special even, would be sung.

The choir was to be one of Heaven's very best, with some exceptionally
rich angelic tenors and basses brought in from the glee club to help out.
All the stars had been rubbed with special polish, and one brand-new star
added just for the occasion. The Carols were quite puffed up with pride
and excitement, and they all promised solemnly to be on hand in plenty
of time.

On the great night, everything went off fine. The stars shone as they
never shone before, the angel choir outdid itself in pageants of joy, and the
Carols were a great success. There was only one little flaw, and hardly anyone
even noticed it. One of the Carols didn't get there in time.

In fact, it didn't get there at all. It was quite a sweet Carol, the angel singers told each other a little sadly. It had been a pity not to have sung it.

The Carol was very penitent. It had stopped on the way, it explained vaguely. Something had got its attention, and it had stopped and been late. Questioning by the choirmaster produced little more. The Carol got vaguer and vaguer as the questions became sharper and sharper.
Only one thing it seemed sure of. It would never happen again, the Carol promised. But it did every year.
And finally when nearly twenty long centuries had gone by with the last Carol still not sung, they brought the situation to the Throne Room. There they explained more in sorrow than in anger, about the Carol that was always late. Then, at a sign, they left and the last Carol was summoned. The last Carol was ashamed and frightened and hung its head as it stood in the Throne Room and explained with no more vagueness why it had been late.

Each year had been something different, it admitted. Sometimes it had been a man in a dungeon. Often it had been men and women whose spirits had fallen low in the face of great obstacles, whose faith in love was almost extinguished and who could not join in the rejoicing over the Child's birthday. Always explained the Carol simply, it had seemed important to stop with these for awhile, and somehow it had always meant being late.

"But next year....began the Carol, but the voice from the Throne interrupted.

"Next year," said the Voice, "you will do as you have done. Next year and for any years to come. For you are the Carol that must be voiceless until all men sing together in a mighty chorus that covers the earth. Only in the heart of men who have seen the vision." Said the voice, "can you honor the Child, until all men love each other as He loved them."

"Then," said the Carol wistfully, "must I be silent forever?" "Not so," said the Voice and the full choir of angels had never sounded so richly majestic. "They flee from it in fear
and greed, but with their fear there is a shame, and through their greed shines love. One day they will cast out their fear and let love lead them into the rich habitation I have prepared for them. "Then," said the Voice, "All men will join in singing the sweetest carol of all.....THE SONG OF UNIVERSAL BROTHERHOOD."

The Gift of Service

The Little Ole' Donkey that had Little to Say

It was the night before Christmas when all the beasts came together from the farthest places of the earth to talk. The first voice to be heard was the deep , rich bass of the lion. "I speak,: he said, :as the king of beasts." And truly he looked a king with his beautiful thick mane and his twany rippling muscles. "I won't repeat my good deeds. I shall not again tonight repeat the shining stories of the days when the Romans loved me.

I shall not recall the story of the one man, Daniel, who defied me in my own den-a story humbling to me-which I have often told you to prove I am not proud. I shall say nothing of my stealthy fury that makes the whole continent tremble at the very sound of my name.

Then I shall speak, and by the trumpet sound, the beasts knew the elephant spoke. "I am the biggest on earth. My size and my strength awe the nations. Yet I can walk so softly and lightly that no ear can hear my coming. Isn't that something to be proud of?" And I don't believe any of you can flip a tremendous teak log over your should as handily as I can. That takes power. Yes, and who else here has been a beast of war? Who else has crossed the Alps? You know how very high the Alps are? I and my strong brothers helped the famous General Hannibal and his soldiers over them in one of his great campaigns. And Hannibal's in history books all over the world."

A strange whispering voice broke in. "You know me, the giraffe. Usually I stay silent, but I hope you'll remember I'm the tallest and can look down on you. But please don't think I am bragging because I'm up here above you. I eat from the tops of trees. Nobody else here can do that. Beside, being the tallest, I can run faster than most..."

"Let me interrupt." It was the leopards voice. "You'd have to move pretty fast to outrun certain stripped and spotted cousins of mine who hold most of the speed records. Right, cousins?" The tiger nodded his head and the cheetah, fastest of all, smiled.

The camel, till now, had been chewing his cud and watching with sad eyes. He cleared his throat and his voice rasped out. "I am neither handsome nor fleet. I have some trouble keeping clean. But I have the right to feel as proud as anyone here. I helped build the pyramids of Egypt? Have any of you ever tackled a job that big? I am also the only animal in the world that can have two bumps on his back. I am used to going many days without water, across scorching sands that would burn the feet off most of you within hours. My friends, the camel counts, and I have a right to feel happy."

For a long while after the camel's speech, there was silence. Then the llama coughed and said, "I am by nature modest. One thing, however, I have had much experience crossing mountains. You have heard of the Andes, my home, and the war work I have cone."

Others spoke too. The goose honked, "I laid a golden egg once. Who else has done that?" The turtle said, "I"m the slowest, it"s better. When you go fast, you go round in circles." The fox said, "I am the slyest, the trickiest, and probably the brainiest of you all." The zebra said, "For confusion, I'm best. Am I black with whit stripes or white with black?" The grizzly bear said, "Who that, is as heavy as I, can climb a tree as well?" And the polar bear said, "Can anybody but me swim with icebergs or catch fish with a paw?"

All this time a little grey beast stood listening. Finally, the other animals looked his way. There wasn't much he could do but speak. "I am a donkey," he began, in a voice so hoarse and low that the beasts leaned forward to hear. "I can't run fast or go days without water. I couldn't swim a stroke among icebergs. I've never climbed a tree. Nobody is afraid of me."

Lower and lower sank the little donkey's voice. His ears drooped, and his head was bowed. The other beasts could hardly hear him. Suddenly he raised his head. His eyes looked far away in time and space and there was a strange glow around him. "Only one thing I have ever done has stuck in my mind. It happened a long, long time ago...on the way to Egypt in the dark of night. I carried a mother who...carried a King."

C. Ralph Bennett

The Gift of Caring

Pattern of Love

I didn't question Timmy, age nine, or his seven year old brother, Billy, about the brown wrapping paper they passed back and forth between them as we visited each store.

Every year at Christmas time our service club takes the children from the poor families in our town on a personally conducted shopping tour. I was assigned Timmy and Billy, whose father was out of work. After giving them the allotted $4.00 each, we began our trip. At different stores I made suggestions, but always their answer was a solemn shake of the head, no. Finally, I asked, "Where do you suggest we look?" "Could we go to a shoe store, sir?" answered Timmy. "We'd like a pair of shoes for our daddy so he can go to work." I n the shoe store the clerk asked what the boys wanted. Out came the brown paper. "We want a pair of work shoes to fit this foot." They said. Bill explained that it was a pattern of their daddy's foot. They had drawn it while he was asleep in a chair.

The clerk held the paper against a measuring stick, then walked anyway soon he came with an open box. "Will these do?" He asked. Timmy saw the price on the box. "They're $16.95," he said in dismay. "We only have $8.00."

I looked at the clerk and he cleared his throat. "That's the regular price." He said, "But they're on sale, $3.98, today only." Then with shoes happily in hand, the boys bought gifts for their mother and two little sisters. Not once did they think of themselves.

The day after Christmas the boy's father stopped me on the street. The new shoes were on his feet, gratitude was in his eyes. "I just thank Jesus for people who care," He said. "And I thank Jesus for your two sons." I replied. "they really taught me more about Christmas in one evening than I had learned in a lifetime."

-Jack Smith

Daughter Wrecked her Dad's Car!!!!

Today I probably would have written about my great snow ride up past the water tower in Orem, but instead I am writing to vent about my daughter's accident she had this morning. You see as I got home at 7:00 this morning I get in to the garage and I notice both cars are gone. I immediately know this is not a good sign. So I go into the house get some of my gear off, retrieve my phone and call my husband. But he does not answer, instead Shandy answered, and the first thing out of her mouth was I got in a wreck.

Now I need to back up a little bit. This is not Shandy's first wreck, it is her 6th.

1. She drove into our house (we had to reframe part of our house)

2. She dinged a car in the mechanics parking lot.

3. She took off the bark of a 200 year old tree that is huge.

4. She pulled forward out of the driveway, and ran into a trailer a truck was pulling. Totaled her car.

5. Rear ended a car.

6. Today's accident not sure if the car is totaled or not.

This is why Shandy has a cheap car, it is one of the cheap cars for kids to get around town, and if anything happens you are not out a great deal of money. Granted it is her second cheap car, but still it is not expensive.

Today Shandy's car is in shop getting some minor repairs done on it. She dropped it off late last night so they could work on it today while she was at work. Then we were supposed to take her to work this morning. Somewhere along the way I guess Shandy decided she was going to take herself to work instead. Anyway, so when I got the message "I got in a wreck". I did not have the loving, kind, motherly response you should have. Instead my response was "why did you drive your dad's car?" Ooops. The next thing out of Shandy's mouth was "I was told I could", and then of course still in my loving mom mode (not). I replied "no you were not supposed to drive the car you were supposed to let us drive you." Then the best response ever from Shandy "thanks for asking if I was hurt or not mom. I am glad you care." Oh, and it gets better from here. My response was not oh I am sorry, or are you okay, no my response was "I know you are okay, because I am talking to you." Let's just say this morning is not going to win me any mom of the year awards.

At that point my husband got a hold of the phone and we talked and I was able to figure out what happened. I then hung up, calmed down for a minute, and then called back to apologize and make sure Shandy is okay. I can't say that I handled it the best this morning, but I can guarantee I will never repeat what I did this morning.

Shandy is doing well, my husband took her to the hospital to get checked out, and they said she has a little bit of neck strain, a bump on her head, and she needs to get her rest. We are talking to the insurance company to see if they will fix the car or if it is going to be totaled. Cross your fingers for me the car is not totaled. I don't want a car payment.