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Willys. Jeep. Life.
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BLOG POST ARCHIVE: 2/1/2012
wanted to continue towing it on home to the ranch, but Jerry was insistent. “But I want to drive it!” Jerry whined in a little boy voice. By sheer will he raised the towbar and drove off in the jeep with me following him—just in case. As I saw my 70 year old husband of nearly 50 years drive off in front of me down familiar roads I no longer saw “Grandpa,” but instead I saw my 17 year old boyfriend flying down the road with his ball cap covering his gray hair. “How fast did I go?” he asked as he pulled over at an “S” curve, about half way home. “About 55,” I answered, having estimated his speed by my own. (The Jeep’s speedometer needs help.) So he stepped on the gas pedal a little harder and got it up to 60 mph before he pulled happily into the driveway at the ranch. He honked his tiny horn and our son-in-law came out to enjoy Jerry’s toy. He did the appropriate guy-noises over the lavish descriptions Jerry was happy to provide. One granddaughter came out of the house and gave her 14 year old opinion, “It’s cute!”
3)
Jerry spent the afternoon reading the old owner’s manual. (Yes, the former owner still had it!) After giving the 14 year old a ride down to the end of the dead end country road, he parked it in the small barn because rain was in the forecast. Then he ate dinner, crawled on the couch, and had a pre-bedtime nap. No doubt he had dreams of Jerry and Willys traveling down many country roads together. Given my very practical nature, I was not immediately onboard when Jerry began searching online for a third vehicle for two people to own. Sensing my reticence, he began arguing his case:
POST ARCHIVE: 2/1/2012
[Post Title]: A Jeep and his 70 Year Old Teenager
Recently I saw my husband lose 53 years with just one signature. He signed papers to purchase a 1949 Jeep Willys. (He always adds CJ-3A.) It took a trip to a nondescript wide spot in the road near Yosemite National Park. The owners lived far away from civilization. Jerry became only the fourth owner of this near mint condition vehicle. The owner had babied this car—painted it white, put in new seat covers and top, and new tires that still have tread.
We had to tow it home behind what used to be Jerry’s favorite means of transportation—his 2003 Chevy Silverado pickup—you know, the one with high torque. The three hour trip to our home, also far away from civilization, proved to be stress-producing. The short towbar did not allow the jeep much turning room and the tires did not want to cooperate with the pickup at times. Jerry would jump out of the pickup, readjust the steering wheel of the jeep, and jump back in the pickup and head on down the road, praying that the next turn would be more successful. Maybe the Willys Jeep was afraid of leaving his life in the foothills. He (Jerry says his Jeep is a boy) should not have worried. He was being moved to another remote location. Once nearer our ranch, we pulled into our familiar gas station to fill him up. Jerry wanted to drive the Jeep on home—about nine miles. Unfortunately, the towbar connection did not want to budge. I
1. I want a toy. 2. Maybe one of the granddaughters will need to drive one of our vehicles to school next year, and the ultimate plea... 3. I don’t have too many years left, and (back to #1) I want an old Jeep!
I told him the final decision was his, and that I would ride with him to look at it. I’ll have to admit that my first impression was positive. As I looked at the white paint job, the new seats, heard about the undercoating, and saw the gleaming engine, I was impressed. Knowing market prices of old Jeeps, Jerry was already convinced that he wanted this particular Jeep. In fact, Jerry was carrying the price of the car in hundred dollar bills in the pickup. Getting the money from the bank had been interesting. The bank was extremely busy, and I cautioned Jerry not to use his regular voice to tell the teller how much he needed. Jerry’s voice carries—even his “stage whisper” carries. I could see an evil man in the bank following us, beating us up, and stealing our money that was formerly set aside for a hearing aid purchase. Later, he told me that he had momentarily thought of passing the teller a note with the amount of withdrawal on it. Thankfully, he abandoned that idea. We don’t want to be on the evening news. Our checking account is less, Jerry’s hearing aid savings are depleted, but I see one happy 70 year old teenager ready to play with his new toy, and that makes his 70 year old girlfriend happy, too. ■
~ Story submitted by Jerry's wife, Pat.
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