About Jeeps
The car failed its emissions test this morning and will cost about what the car is worth to fix it so I guess I'm getting another car pretty quick. Kicking and screaming pretty quick, but pretty quick. The guy at the garage (who commutes by bicycle) suggested I limit my search to Civics and Corollas in the $5k to $6k range that appear to have been well cared for by their owners and if I do that I should be able to forget about car troubles and expenses for another number of years. I have been paying off debt for the last six and now that I'm pretty much clear with the world the idea of buying a new car is depressing. I've bought two or three new cars over the last six years, all of those payments going to the IRS and various hospitals, doctors and credit card companies and I don't want to buy a fourth, even if I get to park this one in my garage.
Do you believe any of this? asks self.
Sure, why not?
Just checking. You were talking about a Jeep there for a while.
Yeah. I like the idea of a Jeep. I almost bought one when I lived in Napa where I could have actually used it in the vineyards once or twice, but I think maybe four wheel drive relates to the city about the way a drugstore cowboy relates to the old West. A bit much. Like driving a Land Rover. Land Rovers are neuevo dot com and Jeeps are, well, Jeeps. There are perhaps too many regional gradations of coolness here and I may be mixing them up. Rather like the differences in using an automated Nikon F5 or a manual Nikon FM2 or perhaps a Minolta G2, the viewfinder Leicas being a whole different business. All of them have important philosophical life choice implications that have nothing to do with pictures and each decade they change their spots. Cars are worse.
You are kidding?
Not totally.
But you kinda want a Jeep.
Shit yes.
A beautiful St. Patrick's day afternoon, a day for those of us who are alcoholic but not very
Irish to celebrate. A warm, not too warm sunny afternoon with the light so bright you want to find a dark cool place with wide open doors so you can feel the breeze and watch the late afternoon shadows, where you can drink out of a glass and talk with similarly minded friends. At least I did once. Not so much anymore, but I remembered enough to get a contact high as I drove my car back home from the repair shop. Sort of. For the purposes of this journal, at least. Not enough to leave the apartment this evening, of course, or drive out onto the roads, but to think about it. To think about it as I scanned a couple of photographs and wrote about Jeeps.
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