That’s Not a Real Jeep
I bought a 2007 Jeep Liberty. The marketing material for it boasts of it as the most capable SUV of that year. The truth of that comes later.
There is only one Jeep for the enthusiast. You know the one. If you don’t, the picture below should be enough.
I don’t own that Jeep. I own this Jeep:
For the custom Jeep fanboys, my Jeep is not a real Jeep because it’s not a JK. Fair enough. My Jeep has car seat mounts, air conditioning, heated seats, a cargo cover, power windows & door locks, power brakes, power steering, satellite radio . . . the kinds of things that make a girl want my Jeep. The fanboys declared my Liberty to be a chick car. A real man owns a JK.
The Spose To I Didn’t Do
A guy like me is supposed to graduate from honors from high school. Then it’s college, meet a girl whom I marry, graduate with a nice white collar degree, punch in at a white collar union job, some kids, a string of Sundays keeping a pew warm and stay in my lane until death kindly stops for me. A guy like me would own a JK. I didn’t check off all the expected items on the orthodox bucket list. I bought the wifey’s Jeep.
The US Navy sent me home after two weeks of bootcamp. For most of my twenty-something I kept quitting college until I got tired of watching life pass me by through the windshield of a taxicab. Even then my first semester as a math major was a spectacular fail. Switching to English Literature just meant I could graduate with something. It didn’t mean a real job.
Marriage and family. Was a mess. I’m surprised my son came through as well as he did. The Empress became a legend on this blog with claims of kinship to the Triad Mafia. I’ve bumped along a near-do-well for forty years. Though I am from privilege and my adjectives put me firmly in the evil bin, I didn’t do the spose to’s many expect of me.
So . . . driving a chick car among guys who wonder if I am masculine enough is kind of awesome. I am also two years shy of my sixth decade of life. For most of human history 35 was ancient. I’m positively immortal. My days of angst over where I am in the dog pile are long past.
Once one is shunned you discover a freedom you didn’t have when trying to stay a member of the in-crowd meant angst, time & energy conforming to the expectations of others. It doesn’t matter if your shoes are from last season, your flannel shirt came out of the clearance pile at Goodwill, and your scent comes from body wash found in Dollar Tree’s trial size bin. You have time to do better things than fret because your card won’t get you that Nordies designer jean all your friends have.
My Liberty is shunned. It and I are free. We were measured against a gang of JK’s and held our own.
Liberty Can and Did
My Liberty and I were on an off-road trail with 5 other Jeeps of varying degrees of customization. Everyone completed the drive. My little chick SUV punched above its weight and won. Lesson? Do you. Do your best. If others trash what you are doing? Fuck ’em. This little Jeep of mine had a great day Saturday and shined. It is a very capable SUV.