Monday, June 9, 2008


If you don't like cars, feel free to skip this post. I'm not generally impressed by cars, having driven an average of 70 different rentals last year, but this one is a special occasion.

One of my childhood dreams, was to drive a jeep. I'm not talking about a sissy, SUV-like Jeep:

I'm talking about a manly, burly, 4x4, terrain-reaping Jeep:

One of those WWII types, driven by paratroopers on their way to the front:

I've arrived at San Diego yesterday and rented a non-distinct Mazda. The car was so dirty, I just walked back to the rental booth and asked for another car. All they had was either a Mustang (hate those - much noise, no performance - just like politicians) or the hearse-resembling Chevy HHR

Frankly, this car looks like the last car you'll ride in your life (probably inside a coffin in the back smile). Not only is it a poor replica of the PT Cruiser, but it handles like a crate. When I refused both, the counter lady offered me a Jeep Wrangler. She was surprised that I agreed and asked again, just to make sure. Yes, I'll take the Jeep. And here it is, my Jeep:

What can I say: it's uncomfortable, spartan (nothing but radio inside), manual doors and windows, noisy as hell, unwieldy, your ass feels every bump on the road, it maxes out at 100mph (although it starts vibrating at 90mph - believe me, I tested wink) and since you have no roof (if you don't count the flimsy tarp) the noise level caused by the wind is deafening. But nothing can wipe the moronic smile off my face as I ride down Hwy 5 in my silver Wrangler...biggrin

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