Throughout my childhood and into my early teens I dreamed of driving a Jeep. When my age could be stated in single digits, I wanted a Wrangler because that’s what Mr. T sometimes drove for the A-Team, but by the time I took driver’s ed, I knew I wanted a Cherokee.
Oh, no, my friend. That thing that’s calling itself a Jeep? It’s a minivan.
I hope I didn’t just offend you by saying so. Within a year or two, it looks like I too will enter the army of minivan moms. But today I am still a Jeep girl.
We won’t talk about how I rolled my first Jeep one Black Friday night while discussing car wrecks with my baby sister and her best friend. We won’t even discuss how I promptly went and bought my current Jeep even before the shell-shock had worn off.
My Jeep is old—a 1999. It’s not really that beautiful, or even comfortable. But it’s homey and friendly and it feels right. Plus, because they don’t make them anymore (ahem), it looks classic (to me) despite its age.
Today my Jeep decided to quit on me. I’m hoping it’s not the final death, but it made me wonder once again—are my Jeep days at an end? Must I really enter the world of true motherhood and leave the last vestiges of carefree singleness behind? Do I have to grow up and get a practical vehicle?
Please note, I would love a newer car…as long as it’s a 2003 Jeep Cherokee in pristine condition. My insanity is clear.
Clearly it’s a Jeep thing, and even I don’t understand.