Buh-bye Mr. Jeep

I have had three car wrecks in my life.  Last week, I had my fourth.  

DH and I were headed to his family farm for Memorial Day.  The plan was for him to golf with his uncles in a scramble and for me to have a brief stopover on my way south.  We were late heading out because our house closing was delayed by a couple of hours, and thus we were passing through Iowa around midnight.  It was a full moon, and the deer were really excited about it.  One of them was so excited that it ran right in front of my Jeep which-was-going-seventy-miles-an-hour-and-no-faster-as-I-am-a-law-abiding-citizen.  

This did not go well for the deer.  

This did also not go well for the Jeep.  

Poor Jeep.  He lived a good life.  He saw a lot of riverbanks, a lot of lakeshores, and a lot of forests. He took me safely through a blizzard that closed all the major highways.  He carefully conveyed DH, our friends, and I  through a nasty storm up by Canada that turned the road to ice.  He survived the treacherous trip back North when we saw 106 cars in the ditch.  He was adventurous, that Jeep of ours, but he was no match for a corn-fed venison steak jaywalking across the interstate.  Now he’s in the big garage in the sky where wheels never rust and his oil will get changed every 3,000 miles.  I’ll miss the little guy.