When it comes to Ve-Hi-cles, I could care less what I drive. Just get me where I’m going, cheaply. One day, when I was in college, I dated a man who drove a Jeep Wrangler. You know the one. The kind they use in the army. Talk about a bumpy ride! The guy was a turd, but the Jeep left an impression on me. What was his name? Who knows; who cares ... But, the jeep! It was pale yellow, soft top with five speed. I actually went on a few more dates then I would have, only because I liked the jeep! We went off road a few times, and I loved it. That memory stuck with me for years! Turn the clock—it’s twenty years later.
One day my ex and I were car shopping and lo and behold, we happened upon a gorgeous, pale blue Jeep. Was it calling out to me? Oh, Yeah! It was a five-speed Jeep Wrangler, hard top and soft top, spotless interior, new wheels, maintained to the max. Yeah, I bought it used, it was in awesome shape! When I sat behind the wheel of my Jeep, a silly grin worked its way to my mouth. I was in love. We drove on old country roads, we drove on the beach, we drove everywhere. Then fate intervened. No more driving my beloved Jeep. No more rides on the beach; no more curving roads, no more driving at all. Every time I see a Jeep Wrangler, my heart still goes pitter-patter. And that silly grin makes its way to my lips. These memories help me get through some of the harder days for me. And I smile. And I can go on. At least for another day.
