Jeepers, Scoob!

I love Scooby-Doo. A lot. So when I saw the opportunity to refer to him in a title, I took it. But this post has nothing to do with Velma, Shaggy, Fred or Daphne. Or cartoons. If I can find a way to spend an entire post on the Scoobster, I will. You won't hear about him again in this one, though. I think.

I have wanted to drive a Jeep since the age of six. How many things can you honestly say you still love 26 years later? Besides Scooby-Doo, of course. Oops. I broke my promise. What I'm trying to say is, six year old me had really good taste. One day I still intend to own one. A Jeep, that is. I think it all started when I watched my favorite show, Danger Bay, on the Disney channel when I was little.

The main character, Dr. Grant Roberts, drove around Vancouver, B.C. in this beauty. With the windshield down. While saving the planet. There may have been a crush. I'm getting all hot and heavy just thinking about him. And the Jeep. Anyway, from the day I first laid eyes on them, I wanted to be a Jeep owner. So when, upon arriving in San Diego this week, a Jeep lay before us unclaimed at the rental lot, I decided that Allah, Mother Nature, Budha and the Tooth Fairy all want my dream to come true.

You know how you want and want and want some more only to find that whatever you lusted for wasn't that great once you got it? That didn't happen here. Isn't she lovely? And with only 2000 miles, she's just a pup. It's true love. My husband has been taking her (it's definitely a her...I checked under the axel) on his hour-long commute the last two days. Perhaps from the day we met, he has known that my lifelong dream is to own a Jeep; but he never seemed to share in my excitement. Imagine my giddiness when he came home last night and said, "I love this car. You have to have one some day." She's made him a convert, too. Shazam!

There are some things I didn't stop to consider. One of them being my hair. My locks are difficult on their own, so imagine how gorgeous they look after being whipped around and used as a bug sieve for hours. I'm so attractive. I will definitely have to accept the fact that I will have perpetually funky hair as a Jeep owner. I will also have to learn how to tie a bandana. But she's soooo lovely and I want her noooow.

She did redeem herself by helping me make my face pretty. This was taken at the buttcrack of dawn, so if we can can collectively ignore my recently slept-on face, I'd appreciate it.

Another thing I didn't stop to consider? The fact that I can't just grab a five spot and lock my purse in the car while I run into Starbucks. The windows are vinyl, yo! Even when the top is on, the car is less than secure. The glove box and center console lock, but anything big is fair game. Not that loose items in a car are 'fair game,' but you get my drift. To a thief they might be. My husband and I are driving up the coast for the night and therefore have an overnight bag; so he had to take it into the building with him since I'd be shopping. I think I will just padlock things to the car fixtures in my Jeep.

This is her. The future love of my life. I recently purchased a new car, and one might ask "Uh, why didn't you get a Jeep? Duh. Stop pining and do it already!" Am I the only one that wenchy? Ruh roh, Raggy. Well, my answer is simple: Go big or go home. The whole shebang. I've been wanting this since I was knee-high to a grasshopper. Holy analogies (or metaphors? or hanging participles?), Batman! What six year old girl dreams about what car she will own as a (sort of) grown up? This girl. When I get one, it's going to be perfect. It with be a five speed, have a sunny yellow-orange hue, have 4 doors, and a satellite radio. I'm not sure about the whole folding windshield thing. I don't fancy bugs in my teeth. It will be a reward for reaching my lifelong goals. I will have earned it, and every time I climb in I want it to be a reminder of the hurdles I've had to overcome to get there. Too Dalai-lameass? Sorry. Still, my education and perseverance will have paid for this dream car. Jinkies!

P.S. I want my name to be Velma Dinkley.

P.S.S. I want Daphne's legs.

P.S.S.S. I lurv Scooby snacks. Although I've heard they were ganja treats because it was the 70s and Shaggy and Scoobs were potheads. So no comment, actually.

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