Doesn't it Just Figure?

The very first car I owned was kind of a piece of junk. I didn't know it at the time, I was so darn proud of it. But it was about 12 years old, tiny and slow, a miniature pick-up truck that my brother called the clown car. The needle on the gas tank indicator would suddenly drop from half full to below empty and the next thing you knew you were stranded on the side of the road. The windshield wipers came on every time you signaled for a left turn. The radio stations all scrambled if you opened the passenger side door too fast, and sometimes the door handles would just fall off. But I loved it. It was a car, it was my own, it was freedom.

For the next seven years I leased Jeep Grand Cherokees, first a red one, then later, white. And I loved those cars even more. Sleek, roomy and brand new, those Jeeps took me on college road trips and meandering jaunts down old dirt roads. Gas was cheap and Daddy footed the bill, anyway. I would drive circuits around Waco on pretty days just for the hell of it. Radio cranked, windows down, it was my favorite way to relax, clear my head.

But I have never loved any car more than I love Reepicheep, the dark gray Jeep Libery that I bought the summer after I graduated from Baylor. I picked Reep out, negotiated for him myself and made every single one of the payments out of my own paycheck. He's small and fast and tough and Reep has never let me down. Last week, I made the final payment on Reep and just three days ago the title papers came in the mail, right before we left for Dallas, in Reepicheep, to come to this company meeting. As of three days ago, Reep is mine all mine, owned outright, bound for even more adventures.

And as of half an hour ago he is on a tow truck, bound for the Dallas Jeep dealership. Reep wouldn't start this morning when it was time to head back to Waco, and jumper cables did absolutely no good. We think he might need a new starter. I just paid him off last week.

Doesn't it just figure?