Goodbye, Anita!

In slightly over 24 hours, I went from the owner of a 93 Jeep Cherokee, to the babysitter of said auto. This afternoon, I sold Anita Phillippe the Jeep to a woman from just south of Owensboro. Kim was willing to drive down to Bowling Green today to see my baby, even though Anita wasn’t running. She helped me confirm what the problem was (the grounding cable was toast, so while I occasionally had electricity, it didn’t go beyond the initial key turning buzzing), went and bought the supplies to fix it, and helped me rig it all back together. There’s a little more to be done, but we got the engine going, and Kim finally had to believe me when I said that she runs like a top, I wasn’t stretching the truth. This Saturday, she’s coming back with her husband to drive the Cherokee to a new home.

My city boy, Jared, and I came to the decision just a couple days ago. Since we’re moving to northern Virginia in a month or so, we started thinking about the whole transportation issue. We are staying with his folks for a few months, and they’re pretty much in either walking or metro distance of wherever we’d want to go. If we go anywhere else, we’re probably traveling together, and since his Jeep is newer, we tend to use his for those rides. Add in his two months of military training post-wedding, and my poor Cherokee would have been sitting on the street for almost four months, with very little use.

So Anita Phillippe, you’ve been good to me. You’ve safely taken me from my hometown in California, across the Rockies and the Great Salt Lake Basin, to south central Kentucky, and from Kentucky to California, three times. You’ve toughed out an emergency trip from Bowling Green to Winston-Salem with a day’s notice and no oil change, and have played the part of a U-Haul on a whim’s notice.

Anita Phillippe the Jeep

You’ve put up with bicycles, dressers, enthusiastically wet dogs, and more teenage boys in one car that should ever be allowed.

You’ve suffered windstorms, incredible elevation changes, long distance races against summer classes, the Nevada desert in July, ice storms, and one ten-inch thick tree branch, and have stood firm.

This Saturday, Anita, you will join the ranks of Fred the Ford and Denise de Nissan, but unlike your predecessors, your journey is continuing beyond theirs. You, a solid California chick (well, your previous owner, my brother, still claims you’re a dude, but your temperament is far too much like my own for you to be male), are about to transform into a Kentucky hills girl.

I’ll miss you, girl!

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