In the early hours before dawn on the Thursday of my infamous birthday weekend, our doorbell chimed its melodious tune announcing the arrival of a visitor.  It was our across-the-street neighbor, and she’d come over to inform us that, while we slept in unknowing slumber, she’d misjudged the distance from our curb – all the way across the street – to her driveway and plowed into the back of my 1998 Red Jeep Cherokee Sport.

So ends the era of the Jeep. Today her insurance company called me and told me that it was a total loss as the amount of damage is more than the poor thing is worth.

That Jeep and me have been through a lot.  Blizzards in Colorado and torrential downpours in Missouri – two across three states moves in less than a year – the Jeep’s gender change, several fender benders (but only one that was my fault), quite a few speeding tickets, a new car and lots of good times.

I can’t help but feel this is my fault. After all, I’m the one that relegated her to the curb upon the new purchase of my silver shark.

I’m gonna miss that damn Jeep.

And while I felt for my neighbor that Thursday, today – I’m not liking her so much.