Today we bought a Jeep… again. We used to have a Jeep. It was black and cute and bubbly-looking. As a matter of fact, the Jeep we purchased today is pretty much the very same Jeep we used to have back in the day.
Today’s purchase marked the end of a year long bitch n’ moan session facilitated by Hänni House’s favorite hubby, Angelface. The story: In 2002 Angelface leases his first car, a very practical Toyota Echo. Three months into Angelface’s lease Hänni makes the mistake of calling the Echo a “clown car” (which was funny when you consider that the car was so teeny and its driver was a big, hulking giant of a man with size 15 feet. But whatevuh). Shortly after the Clown Car incident of ’02 Angelface attempts to redeem his masculinity by purchasing the rough and tumble Jeep Liberty.
It’s a story that’s as old as time. Boy and Liberty Meet. Boy and Liberty Fall in Love. Boy and Liberty live happily ever after until…
Gas skyrockets up to $1.75 a gallon! (Thanks mutha f*in Bush administration!)
Suddenly the Liberty lost some luster. On a whim, and doing what he believed was - in the words of Martha Stewart - a good thing, Angelface traded in his beloved Jeep for the more efficient (and thus slightly more affordable) Chrysler Sebring.
And about this mistake, Angelface has been kvetching incessantly ever since.
It’s really been annoying as shit.
You see true love never dies, and that’s what he had with the Liberty. She was his first, his last, his 4wheel thing. Hell, he even wept when giving away his leather wipes, the little chemical cloths that brought him so much pleasure when he detailed the Jeep fortnightly.
To add insult to injury, the Sebring really turned out to be a POS. It mysteriously started getting SUV mileage right about the time that gas prices rose in excess of two “holy freakin shit” dollars a gallon. Nice timing methinks. In addition, it also made a mysterious clunking noise (which I suspect was a bum transmission), and had unusually screechy breaks, headaches, nausea, oily anal discharge, and a partridge in a pear tree.
But I digress.
Long story short, even though I hate going to the dealership…Even though I’d rather go the gynecologist than spend one minute face to face with a skeezy, greezy salesman… Even though I’d rather go to the gynecologist and have her do a five-finger anal probe rather than spend one second of my day on a car lot… I was a good wifey and accompanied Angel on his trip to the showroom floor for what would turn out to be the happiest of days.
I’m happy because Angelface is smiling more, and whining less. He’s happy because today my friends, we purchased a black, cute, bubbly-looking Jeep…again.
The secret. It really is coming.