The end of the road

The word came today from the insurance guy. The Jeep is totaled. After more than 217,000 miles, it's history, at least as far as my family is concerned.

My soon-to-be eight-year-old is in mourning today. He planned on inheriting it in 2015, when he turns 16. By then I hope to buy him a used short-wheelbase used Thomas Built C2 school bus.

My daughter was almost apologetic about the Jeep last night. On Monday night, I drove it to pick her up from watching the Fire Prevention Parade. She gave me a hard time for driving the old vehicle that could break down at any time. Some 48 hours later, she was apologizing.

I kept telling her she would get the Jeep someday, but there was no way I could do that. As someone on this blog said, the Jeep is probably too unstable for a new driver. Anyway, I want her first car to have side airbags if at all possible. The Jeep was good in its day and okay for a middle aged driver, but I really shouldn't plan to turn anything like it over to a teenager if I can help it.

We will probably have some sort of memorial ceremony soon. And I will probably write something for the weekend.

I'll miss seeing the odometer turn over 300,000. Having owned a 1976 Ford that deafened you with the sound of rusting metal, having a vehicle that got 200,000 miles was a joy.

Even if it did drive like a truck.

I liked it. And I'll miss it.

(Pictured: My 1996 Jeep Cherokee at Mound Hill cemetery at Gallipolis, Ohio, in early May. It was near sunset on a chilly Sunday evening. From this point, you can see and hear for miles along the river. As nice as this view is, the one 90 degrees to the right is better. It's a great spot if you ever need to get away from everything and think. I have a nephew buried there, and restauranteur Bob Evans is buried there, too. This part is at the edge of the cemetery, and there is a small park nearby. If anyone needs directions, contact me.).