The End of an Era

A few years ago my husband gave me a choice of getting a new Jeep, or a facelift. Not the everyday, run-of-the-mill decision. The conversation was prompted by his proprietary spreadsheet, which plots out the timing of our major financial decisions. The spreadsheet had told him it was the prime time to replace the Jeep. Or, alternatively, we could take care of a few wrinkles here and there. I wasn’t at all unhappy with the Jeep.

My husband found it at a dealership in Atlanta, and negotiated the deal by phone during our last few weeks living in Ecuador. When the day came to move back to the U.S., we drove from Cuenca to Quito with our four dogs for a midnight flight to Atlanta. Our first chore after landing the next morning was to pick up my Jeep. I didn’t take it for a test drive. It was perfect, and me and that Jeep have weathered some wonderful years together.

This year seemed like the right time to finally make a change though, and we’ve retired the Jeep for good. My husband cleaned the glove compartment a few days ago, and I thought we might get a kick out of what he found. These contents seem to tell the story of the last 6 years.

Every good EMT is taught to keep a pair of latex gloves on hand in case of an emergency, and there’s a tube of lipstick that may or may not have been used in several years. Same with the sunglasses, which were last used during kayaking class in 2014.

Occasionally I’ve taken private lessons from my Kung Fu Sifu using a favorite weapon, one of which is the knife. And the dog collar was around Bentley’s neck when I brought him home (in the Jeep).

My husband insisted on buying the Mace pepper spray to attach to my waistband on long runs. Dogs are plentiful and run free on the quiet back roads of these mountains, and they scare the living bejesus out of me – I never did wear that Mace on my waistband though.

You never know when you might need a pair of gloves, or what degree of thickness may be warranted. And if it was an especially cold or windy run, I’d tie a bandana around my neck. There’s never too much chapstick, and I’d be really mad with myself if there was a little niggle that I had forgotten to tape. Mad money was a staple, whether a couple of dollars or a twenty-dollar bill.

I have to remind myself not to wave at every Jeep I encounter these days – there is a protocol for that you know. And, by the way, I didn’t get a facelift either. You never know though, that spreadsheet could decide some day that it’s the prime time.