No Sale



“I just don’t understand why you want to sell it,” my son pleaded with me. He was talking about my Jeep, and it sounded like he was going to cry. “It’s still in good shape and it runs good. I just don’t understand why you want to sell it.”

Since the day I bought that Jeep I’ve been regretting it. It’s terrible on gas mileage, it’s so rough that my wife all but refuses to ride in it, and above all else I can’t stand the color. Why in the world I picked bright yellow, I’ll never know. My brother-in-law says I look like a big M&M coming down the road.

I can’t even tell you exactly why I bought the Jeep in the first place. I just woke up one day a couple of years ago, found myself to be 30-something years old, and decided I needed a Jeep. I call it my mid-life crisis vehicle. I needed to do something drastic, and it was buy this Jeep or get a girlfriend. The Jeep was cheaper and got me in less trouble.

Well, a little less trouble, anyway. When I told my wife how much I was spending for the tires and the lift kit she didn’t exactly throw me a party.

But even though I’ve regretted buying it, I never really thought about selling the Jeep until a couple of weeks ago. A buddy of mine that I work with came to me with a nice offer that got my wheels to spinning. It was enough to pay off what I owe on the Jeep and leave me with a few thousand more.

My kids weren’t as happy about it as I was. “It’s so fun to ride in dad!” said one. “My friends think it’s cool that my dad drives a cool Jeep,” said another. “What about all the memories? I just don’t understand why you want to sell it,” they cried.

So I told them that’s what life is about, making a profit. Never let emotion get in the way of life decisions. Houses, cars, whatever you have. If someone offers you more that it’s worth, you take the money and put it in the bank. Everything can be replaced, and everything is for sale- even memories.

So I went down to a friend’s car lot, “Jimmie’s Deals”, to look for something to drive after I sold this one. While I looked for my next vehicle, Jimmie told me he could get way more for my Jeep than I had been offered. He took a gazillion pictures, slapped them on the internet, and I was fielding calls within hours. I’m telling you folks, this guy is good. If you want one, or need to get rid of one, come see this cat. He knows what he’s doing.

Sure enough, some guy calls me from Oklahoma and offers me way more than my buddy at work did. He sent a friend to test drive it and everything. We made a deal over the phone, and I started spending the money in my head. New dining room floor, here I come!

I sat down to call the bank for the title and stared out the back door at my Jeep while I dialed. And then it happened. As I started to dial, I looked out and saw all three kids sitting in that Jeep, laughing, hollering, whooping it up, and waving me over. The damn dog was even in there, with his paws on the dash and wagging his tail.

I don’t know why I’m telling you this, because I know it sounds silly. I don’t believe in ghosts, spirits, and junk like that either. But there they were in that Jeep, plain as day. It was like the scene from Lonesome Dove, when the spirit of Deets led Pea Eye to safety.

Then I started remembering stuff. Like going through the automated car wash with my nephew, laughing and scared to death because we didn’t know if the soft top would hold up to the pressure of the water or dryer. And going mudding for the first time at Lake Somerville with my wife’s cousin- one of my favorite people to hang out with. I remembered taking my father-in-law for a ride not long before he died. We found a little mud that day too, and I had never seen him laugh so hard or have so much fun.

I remembered driving down a dirt road with the top down, and my kids standing on the back seat leaning over the roll cage, with their arms stretched high and letting the wind hit them like they were flying. And I remembered one Sunday afternoon when my wife and I went on a three-hour ride down every country rode in the county, just talking and listening to Texas country music. It was so quiet, and so peaceful, and we weren’t in a hurry to get anywhere.

All of these memories hit me in a thirty second span, and I pressed the “End Call” button on my phone. I knew I wouldn’t sell it. I couldn’t.

It turns out my son was right. Sometimes memories- even in this house- just aren’t for sale.

I still hate that damn yellow though.