It's more emotion than the situation allows, but I'm in love. With the Jeep. Love with a capital L, maybe LOVE in all caps. I know it's just a car - it gets me from place to place, it has plenty of room for strollers and carseats and groceries, and it's great on the occasional dirt road.
And yet, as we all know, the Jeep something more than that. The Jeep is a friend. When I thought about home on my mission, the vision was always of driving the white Jeep up Parleys Canyon to Park City with Paul Simon or Nanci Griffith blasting from the speakers. There was something about that image that represented happiness and freedom and, simply, ME. Getting lost in thought and music while driving the Jeep is a very satisfying feeling.
I love the dark green Jeep as much as I loved the white Jeep. As much as I loved - dare I say? - the Trooper. Tonight I drove on curvy little roads shaded by big green summer trees on the way to book club. I let the folk music free (no kids in the back with sensitive ears): Martin Simpson's cover of Boots of Spanish Leather, Calhoun's The Earth Has Lost Its Hold, and Lucy Kaplansky's cover of It Ain't Me Babe.
On the way home I actually started crying because my heart was bursting with love for my Jeep and, metaphorically, my life. Thanks, Pops, for making my life possible. I hope the Jeep brings you happy dreams in Barcelona.
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