So, My Dear Jeep…

Wronged Objects

If your furniture, appliances, and other inanimate objects at home had feelings and emotions, to which item would you owe the biggest apology?

With out a doubt, hands down no contest. That apology would go to my Jeep.

What do you do when your running late for work? Right, mash the gas and drive like a bat out of hell. But my drive consists of more dirt roads than paved ones.

Heck, tonight was a perfect example. I had one of the most important things to do after work tonight. That was to attend one of the boys Christmas band concert.

A contractor working for us didn’t end his day on time and I left work 45 minutes later than I should have. That only left me forty five minutes to make a half hour drive ( by normal standards) clean myself up, eat something and get to the school.

When that contractor rolled out I locked the gate jumped in my Jeep, put my seat belt on and passed him before we were a mile down the road.

All I could think was “There is no way I am missing this.”

Tires squawked as I took a hard left off the pavement onto that old gravel road. My foot never let up and those tires shot stones into the tree line when we finished the turn in a power slide and cloud of dust.

The brakes ground hard just before the motor roared louder as I danced the pedals through the pot hole stricken winding curves.

The final stretch home involved a dash through Main Street of a small but popular town to due south of home. I had to jump on the brakes with both feet thanks much to the *ahem* kind gentleman who obviously thought that his parallel parked Mustang had the right of way over on coming traffic.

That last stop light between me and home didn’t quite agree with my timing either, and I launched that old girl into passing gear when my right foot dropped to the floor.

I roared around the final bend, and rolled up to find Mama’s car already running. I parked that mud covered and abused but oh so reliable old girl right next to Mama’s shiny clean comfort cruiser, and bolted for the front door.

I dashed through the house, grabbed a clean shirt and a dose of deodorant, then ran down the hall while wiggling into my shirt. At the end of the hall stood Mama, keys ready and with a bowl of food.

By the time we arrived, I had eaten enough that my stomach wouldn’t try to rival the sound of the band, and kicked back to enjoy the show.

And I must say- Good Job Guys! The concert was Awesome!!

So my dear Jeep. I guess one could say I owe you an apology, and a big one. But we both know the plain and simple truth.

You like it rough and dirty, otherwise you wouldn’t have lasted this long!



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