For Sale: A Dream Fulfilled.

I come from a car family. Few buses, less trains, annual planes. Transportation that was not one’s own was to be practically shunned unless absolutely necessary. This included dreaded monthly car payments. This was the stuff of chumps. You could afford it or you couldn’t.

No half-measures, as I’ve said before.

Some people recall their childhood dreams and fantasies with great relish. They fetch them from their archives as if they were children yet. Me, I had only three: become a airplane pilot, that the ground would crack open and swallow the neighborhood and school in the year 2000, and drive a Jeep. My first attempts with the latter were feeble, given the meager retail earnings I had during college. Old, busted, near-dead cars were all I could afford. A near-dead Jeep breaks your heart when you see it. They’re not meant for it.

Later, after being convinced that an old mail carrier Jeep was not a wise option, it was time to seriously buy a car. I was earning good money for the first time, saving well, and I seized the opportunity to buy a car when the time had come. A Jeep was the only option. I scoffed at suggestions of buying a sensible car, or even worse a sedan. A sedan like every other chump on the road, making payments.

I searched for a few weeks before I found this one, nicknamed Ellie on account of those tusks in the front. She only had a oil small leak and 60,000 miles on the odometer. I got him to knock $500 off the price and drove her home that first day. Since then I’ve driven from San Diego to Victoria and all points in between. The memories I have of this Jeep are far more potent than anything remembered in a house or apartment. This was my freedom and rite of passage. I owned it, I drove it, and the responsibility was entirely on me. The decisions made were my own.

But by and by things changed. The engine started to feel like it wasn’t strong enough. Not enough space in the back seat—or enough space in the back, period. I first considered changing up a couple of years ago but a big move and other expenses later I decided I didn’t need a new car. I continued with Ellie. We did alright.

My situation changed, again. I resumed my search.

A buddy of mine from Oregon also happened to be into Jeeps. All sorts of things mechanical. I told him my tale of the first Jeep and wanting something more. His first suggestion was the type of Jeep he owns.

“A Jeep Cherokee,” he said. “A ‘90 to ‘96. They’re work horses, get decent mileage, and parts are cheap. They’ll take you to the moon and back if you set them up right.”

“How’s the space?”

“Plenty of it.”

I thought on that a while. It makes sense. What I need is an older car. A simpler car. Something I could maintain without the need to stop in at a mechanic’s place on account of overly complex wiring, computers, plastic parts packed into the tiniest crevices. New cars aren’t the same. A new car would kill what remains of me.

Ellie runs fine. We get to the beach and back without so much as a stutter. She’s got a small rear diff leak that needs to be patched. Heavy work, what with the transmission lugging involved. Something I’ll get fixed before I trade or sell her away. If, I should say. The interested parties so far haven’t made a good mark on my seller’s conscience. One spelled and wrote in a tone I didn’t like. The other spoke like he would part her out and junk her.

I’ve encountered several Cherokees already that look promising. Mileage at the low end of 100,000. Generally two or three previous owners. Yes, a Cherokee will do. Older and Jeep is best. Familiar, trustworthy. Ready for anything. Entirely mine.