It's strange how certain materials, objects, etc. in life can mean more to us in sentiment than in their true monetary value. In high school my dream was to have a red jeep wrangler. My sophomore year of college the red jeep became a reality. I don't really consider myself a materialistic person, but the jeep's value to me goes way beyond the green back.
For about a year that jeep brought me back and forth from college to the Outer Banks. I can close my eyes and feel the breeze and smell of the ocean as I drove with my sisters up and down beach road and treked sand and surfboards along the island. I remember driving with Shana up to Corolla parking on the beach and watching stars loom above with waves crashing a short distance from the shore line. I can close my eyes and remember it like yesterday.
After a few break downs the jeep ended up on the farm sitting and being pretty beaten up by weather, frustrated chickens and other forms of farm life. We had it towed up a few months back and after a whole lot of time and fixing up it's on the road and running. It would have been a whole lot easier to just find another used jeep, in much better condition, and have that as 'wrangler II, the legend continues.' There was something within me that really wanted the old, character laden jeep back. It's not going to win any awards and I crossed my fingers and held my breathe taking it through inspection, but for me it works. Yay!
As I drove home from work yesterday in the pouring rain, soaked to the bone, all I could do was laugh and flash back to all those years ago. My feeling is, you can't take life and little things too seriously. Besides, wet jeans and soggy tee shirts dry, but memories last forever.
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