Okay maybe not an ode, but just some memories. We sold our jeep today. We'd had it for over 13 years. We bought it when we lived in Myrtle Beach and were about to have our second child. Having two 2-door cars just didn't seem tolerable anymore with two kids.
It was technically our jeep, but I can hardly remember ever driving it. It's definitely something I always associated with my husband. When you sat in the driver seat, you could immediately picture the way my husband sits when he drives. You were stuck in that exact same position since the seat had become molded that way (and eventually had to be welded into place after the seat became detached). It had a unique sound, made louder by 160,000 miles of hard work. I always knew when he was arriving home without looking out the window. It was full of paraphenalia representing my husband's many hobbies and fatherly duties; baseball bats, more baseballs and whiffleballs that most normal people will own in their lifetimes, sleds, hats, mittens, math text books, umpire gear, buckets of sand for an icy driveway, and who knows what else.
When we worked for my father at his cheese company, there was a set of lockers for hanging up aprons, lab coats, and storing boots. It must have come from a school or something, but there was some grafitti that we both remember that said, "Chevy Rules, Mopar's for Fools". True or not, we often joke about that line. The Mopar seemed to work out okay for us.
About a year ago we deemed it not fit to leave town. It was reasonably dependable in getting my husband to work and dropping kids off where they needed to go, but it made things complicated when one of us needed to leave town. I just got a new car, and we just got a hand-me-down station wagon, so it was time. My husband put an ad on Craig's list this morning around 8, and by 5 it was being driven away by it's new owner. Wow.
It's just a car, but I can't help feeling sentimental. After all these years, the jeep seemed like part of my husband's personality and part of the family.
Just for kicks, here's a shot of another jeep that was part of my family (1979, maybe?). My dad had the great idea to have my sister and me stand on the roof to pick pears from the pear tree in our back yard.
Mopar Rules, Chevy's for Fools.