Fare Thee Well, JEEP...

The end has come.

Perhaps a dramatic way to let my Blog know that my most prized posession has been written off, but let me tell you, I have been feeling dramatic as of late.

I went to pick up my license plates and search the Jeep for any final belongings. It was full of ice today, as the slush inside it has frozen solid. I had planned to sit down in the driver's seat, depress the clutch, and run through the gears one more time while weeping. However, the mechanic was there with a screwdriver to take my plates off and I couldn't very well be seen in my finest attire (complete with makeup, a dressy coat, and high heeled boots) weeping at the wheel of my Jeep.

I shed a few silent tears and walked away, doing my best not to fall and break my neck because I was wearing high heeled boots. I handed him the keys and left.

And I had to try really, really hard not to cry behind the wheel of my rental car.

I've done an awful lot of crying behind that wheel lately. Driving has become rather scary now that I know that vehicles that can be one minute completely under the control of their driver, and the next minute flying through the air. The sight of the ditch, the pull of the Jeep as it began to roll, and my arms flying to protect my head and face as we made our first tumble is something I won't forget very soon.

But I've been driving. Driving lots. Slowly. Very, very slowly. If I was holding up traffic with my slow driving on the night of the accident, I am definitely holding up traffic now. If it is snowing, if there is dampness on the road... I am going slowly. If nothing else, I am not at risk for speeding tickets any time soon.

And now begins the quest for my next vehicle.

When I was buying the Jeep, I was full of elation and joy that I was getting a vehicle I'd had my eye on since I was seventeen years old. SuperNan and I reminisced the other night about the first time I saw one for sale in town, how I raced home and wanted to split the cost with my dad, share the supercool Jeep with him. And then this past summer, I killed his truck, and suddenly, eight years later, we were sharing a Jeep.

Am I being a little too nostalgic?

I fucking loved that vehicle.

Excuse the profanities.

I don't want to search for a new car. I don't want to wrangle prices and deal with financing and figure out interest rates. I have no desire whatsoever to walk onto a car lot and ask to test drive cars. I feel like walking up, hands in pockets, head down, and demanding whatever piece of crap car they have because whatever it is won't be my Jeep and I won't like it as much.

And also, I want to get a Saturn because I'm angry at this car, whatever this car may be, and I feel like I am going to kick it an awful lot.

If nothing else, the insurance company gave me good money for the Jeep. I'm not losing money and I will have a down payment available for my next car. So, Hurray! Happiness and Glee!

The truth is that I could afford to buy another Jeep.

But that accident scared me. No, really. Like, it SCARED me.

And I don't ever want to fly out of control like that again, and so the short wheel base and the rear wheel drive are not something I can deal with at this anxious point in my life.

I feel like some day I might get another. A summer car, something I can take fourwheeling. I want to tear through the gravel pits and spin around on back roads when no one is around.

And maybe some day I will.

But for now I'm car shopping and I'm going to try and be happy and try to get excited and not be a big old downer. I'm planning my first drive home, much like I did with the Jeep. (Only this time without burning out my emergency brake). I'm going to drive around for an afternoon listening to my favorite songs and programming the radio and driving aimlessly and learning to love my new car.

And I'm sure that, eventually, I will.