In 1963 (or 64) we bought a new car.  America's Chevrolet dealers each received a  golden anniversary  car to sell to celebrate the fifty years they had been in business.  Ken bought me one. (Hold that thought a minute.)  It was really nice.

A few years after we bought the car, after Ken retired, we had been keeping a calf fenced in the space between our house and the house next door.   (The mama cow had died, and the people next door couldn't keep running out in the country to feed the calf, so we got the calf if we would feed it.  I can't remember why in the world I agreed.)  I'm sure there must have been some city ordinance forbidding cows in the yard in downtown Pryor, but all the kids on the block loved the calf and took turns feeding it, so there were no complaints.  It turned into a pet.

Ken got a job 55 miles away so we moved.  We had to get the calf--which was now a cow--moved to our new place..  With no pickup.  So Ken took the cushions out of the back seat of my beautiful Golden Chevrolet, and with the tail hanging out one window and head out the other, the cow got transported.  Ken said cars would pass him and stop, point at the car as he passed by, and he could read their lips.  "I told you there was a cow in that car."

I usually try to tell a story and then connect it to something from the Bible that is applicable.  However, the only Biblical connection I can make from all that is that when the Israelites made a golden calf as an idol, Moses threw a fit and melted the calf down.

I didn't throw a fit, but I almost had a meltdown cleaning my car.