My oldest grandson was born one month before I bought my red Jeep
Liberty, so all seven of my grands have never known me to drive anything else.
When I announced recently I was buying a new car, I was met
with shocked looks, not just from the grandkids but from the rest of the family
as well.
Will it be red?
More importantly, what was going to happen to it? I wasn’t
going to trade it in, was I?
People get attached to houses, and so my family has become
attached to Grandma’s Jeep. It’s more
than just some old car - it’s a symbol of Grandma (or Mom); it’s home; it’s a
part of the family.
It has been my office, counseling and tutoring grandsons as I
drive to and from school, soccer, or swimming lessons. It has been my interrogation room where
naughty boys have confessed their sins and received scolding’s and an earful of
advice. It has been the stage for Grandma’s traveling acts of great feats, where
out of boredom or desperation the kids and I have invented games, songs, and
really bad, dumb jokes.
It’s been lived in and used. Tiny Lego pieces are tucked in between
the car seats, as well as paper wrappers and notes from the teacher that didn’t
make it home. The seats are stained from spilled sodas or juice, wet swimming
suit bottoms, and assorted goops the boys were explicitly told not to open in the
car.
Like its owner, the transmission is slipping and it tootles
down the road at an irritatingly slow speed.
It needs new tires. The air conditioner only works on high, and the radio
no longer works at all. It leaks, leaving puddles wherever it is parked, and it
makes embarrassing noises at inconvenient times.
Most of the miles on the odometer were racked up by hundreds
of trips to pick up and leave off, including the library, McDonald’s, and Dairy
Queen. The upholstery is an
archeological dig, the stains testimony to the many ice cream cones and Dr.
Peppers I let my boys sneak even after their Mommy said no.
But still it does not erase the fact that I need a new car.
I have made one concession.
My next car will be red, that way the kids will know it is me coming
from a distance, but it will not be a Jeep. My husband has intervened as
well. He decided we will not trade in
Grandma’s Jeep, not out of sentimental reasons but because she has been a good
and faithful old car, and he says no one could ever give us in trade what she
is worth.
I agree. No car I have
ever owned has meant as much to me. She is filled with wonderful memories and
those are things that money or a new fancy sedan could never replace.
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