In a surprise this afternoon, I finally sold my truck — a 1987 Jeep Comanche. And in a sad, bitter-sweet finale, watched it ride off southward to Fortuna.
After a lifetime of different vehicles, the Jeep was by the far the neatest of them all, and at nearly eight years, the longest one I’d ever had, and that’s going back to 1967, and a brand-new VW Bug. I’ve had three new cars — two Volkswagens, and the other, a 1976 Toyota Celica, a good, tight ride itself, and the last few years, a shitload of used trucks/cars, but the Jeep was the most fun-filled, and an incredible piece of machinery, a class act by itself.
And a kind of survivor, driven into Clam Creek, drown and figured dead, fated to be stranded-under-the-trees forever, but tooled back to life by The Car Whisperer.
Normal daily living to be altered now, without that truck hanging about somewhere in the vicinity.
Laugh it off by via the late great George Carlin:
Let’s go for a drive OK? Well I’ll go for a drive, you’ll go for a ride.
The person who drives the car they go for a drive, the other people they go for a ride.
People don’t know that, tell them when they’re in your car.
Say “you assholes are goin’ for a ride!”
No drive Jeep no more — ride only.