Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

I'm trying to let myself down easy today. I'm breaking off a long relationship, but it needed to happen. She just takes and takes and doesn't give as much back as she used to, and I think it's time we just went our separate ways.

I put my Jeep up for sale today. I've been a Jeep owner for 11 years; first a forest green Sahara model that I drove into the ground, then my white Rubicon for the last couple of years. I love Jeeps, and driving Jeeps has become a part of me, but it's time to move on. My family of four plus 2 dogs and gear don't fit in a Jeep, the Rubicon isn't paid for, and I could no longer justify the cost of the payments, insurance, and gas. It just isn't working any more.

All relationships are built on shared experiences, and I've had quite a few with the Jeeps. I survived the infamous hurricane evac in my Sahara. After 16 hours at the wheel, I was pushing my leg down with my arms to depress the clutch pedal. But with the windows and doors off, I had some great conversations with people stuck on the road with me all night. 150,000 miles later I traded her in on the Rubicon, my ultimate Jeep of all Jeeps. I haven't stopped accessorizing her since she arrived at our house: the lift kit and off-road tires, the congo cage on top to carry my kayak or camping gear, the hi-lift jack mounted on the bumper, performance air intake, the list goes on. Due to no fault of their own--both Jeeps have been extremely reliable--the old acronym has held true: JEEP stands for Just Empty Every Pocket. There's just no end to the ways you can modify a Jeep, and it's been one of my favorite pastimes.

I'll miss waving at all the other Jeep owners on the road, something I think is unique among Jeepers. I'll miss being approached by strangers who have a question about some modification I've made to the Rubicon. I'll even miss those days I got caught in a rain storm with the top off. I'm learning a lesson all over again, one that I should have learned long ago about cars and guitars and favorite baseball gloves that the dog chewed up. They're just stuff, and you better not get too emotionally attached.

So Adieu, lady Rubicon. It was great while it lasted, but you're a luxury I can no longer afford. We'll always have Paris-uh, I mean the duck hunt last winter.