Ever since I met Errol, he wanted a Jeep. He finally got this one in 2007. I had my own SUV at the time, but it was later totaled by a really dumb driver. At the time, we also had a pickup truck, so we didn't need another car. But then driving the Jeep back and forth to Los Angeles, over 100 miles one way, when Errol was ill in the hospital there, was really difficult for me. I so resented the Jeep, blowing in the high desert wind, noisy with its soft top.
I no longer have the truck and I bought Rachael's old Honda CRV, so the Jeep is now my country car. Most mornings, I take it for a spin around the lower part of my property. I also use it to go to the dump. When Samson needs to go to the vet, or anywhere, he rides in the Jeep. The back is covered in his white fur that's sort of stuck to the bottom and the sides and I don't want that in the Honda, if I can prevent it.
People in the canyon recognize me in the Jeep. When I drive the Honda, I think I'm completely incognito. Just one more driver in a white car. The Jeep is British racing green, a color I've loved since my younger days when cool British sports cars were abundant on the roads around Princeton, N. J. where I lived.
The point of this little story is that I have now become fond of my green Jeep and enjoy driving it around here. We ride up the hill to see Joyce; we ride to the dump; after it rains, we drive on our muddy road, dirt splashing and sticking to the wheel wells. In the winter, we get in 4-wheel drive and ride through the snow, my Jeep and I.
There's just something about a Jeep! Makes you feel young, I think. Fun and adventurous, perhaps.
There's just something about a Jeep! Makes you feel young, I think. Fun and adventurous, perhaps.
