Lately, I haven’t had much time to just run around the island. In my case that would be drive around the island, but last Sunday I called a truce with my inner-blog and jumped in my little red jeep and took off for a ride with friends.
I love my old red Jeep that I purchased almost 19 years ago. It is still in mint condition with only 76,000 original miles. Back when I was younger, it was a “man magnet.” Today, when men stop me at the post office or grocery store it is only to ask what year the Jeep is or if I am interested in selling it. And these are older men, not like in the good ole days. True, I am older as well, but the Jeep is just as cute as she was back in 1991.
Spring Break used to be fun because the young boys would pull up with great intentions of flirting and then they would see………..well, an “older woman.” So much for the “show me your t—! I would have had to raise them up over the steering wheel. Now, that is not exactly too sexy for your car!
In spite of all the offers I get to purchase the Jeep, I will never sell her. My friends, Bill and Dave, fight over who can buy it to take to their deer leases. I would never let “Ole Red” go to a deer lease and be dragged through the mud and overgrown brush. She and I have too many years together and too many good times to ever let her go.
I was on my way to a professional development session in Richardson the day I saw her up on the riser, all shiny and new. The next day I went back and bought her. I traded my “real” car in because I couldn’t afford a play car and another car at the time.
These were the days when I always wore high heels and suits with skirts and served as assistant superintendent for a suburban district outside of Dallas. I also had the boss from Hell, who did not like anything remotely connected to fun, and didn’t like anyone else who did. When he saw the Jeep parked next to his big black Tahoe that next morning, I know he must have been horrified – not because he was thinking about how I was going to get in and out of it all dressed up professionally because I guarantee it was a better sight than his big butt lumbering out of his monster truck; he was thinking about how much fun I was going to have and he didn’t like it one bit.
Now, this guy is the only boss I ever had that I didn’t like, and there was good reason. He was one of the “meanest” people I have ever known, and very proud of it. I wasn’t used to this because my boss before him was a true gentleman and all around good person. I hope both are reading this, but I know the cynical one isn’t because this is something fun.
But my point is I wouldn’t care. He was so bad he bragged about putting salt on the shrubs the PTA bought for one of his campuses back when he worked in a different town just because they didn’t confer with him about what kind to buy before they purchased and planted. Do you know how many bake sales, etc. it took for the PTA to pay for those shrubs?? Shame on him! I know I really should feel sorry for someone that miserable, but I just can’t get there.
If he could see me today at the island, he would really be upset because I am having way too much fun. Eat your heart out, Mr. Superintendent. Oh, and I failed to mention that when he “left” the district, I was promoted to his job. God not only opens doors—he sometimes lets them hit others in the butt on their way out. I don’t guess Mr. Supt. will want an autographed copy of Keeping Faith, do you?