End of an era. The time for the P.O.S to be put down has come.

Way back in the year 2003 I became the proud owner of this:

A slightly used Jeep Cherokee. Man, did I become the shit. I had four wheel drive to handle all the off-roadin' the Toast was accustomed to, which was basically every Saturday rugby game when we had to park on a gravel parking lot as apposed to smooth blacktop; but hey, it had a sweet tailgate, four doors, and wasn't douchebaggy like those Jeep Wranglers. Lacrosse players with their DMB stickers, popped polo collars, barbed wire tats, and ran-too-fast spiky fucking hair. Assholes!!

Anywho, where was I?? Oh, I had just purchased a new to me Jeep and everything was pretty much gravy. True, I wasn't getting the gas mileage that my previous car was capable of, the sweet cutlass, but I also wasn't driving around in an maroon Oldsmobile now was I?? That car did have a pretty sweet Pearl Jam "Alive" bumper sticker on it...but I digress. Life was good.

Anywho, about 6 months into owning the now, self dubbed, "Nice Marmot" Jeep due to it's "Nice Marmot" bumper sticker, (thank you Big Lebowski) I kinda ran into a little bit of trouble. It was a wonderful weekday afternoon in mid-March Syracuse and I was amidst a date of sorts. Few times in Upstate New York do you encounter the combination of 60 plus degrees and sunshine in March so I had taken advantage of the situation to meet a lady out at a local park to go for a long run, enjoy the out-of-doors and then go to the local Wegmans to pick up some food to make a nice healthy dinner. Well, on the way to the grocery store for our healthy vittles I was stopped on a major road by a traffic light and as I scanned my rearview mirror to see the haps behind me I noticed a SUV speeding up instead of the accustomed to, and highly recommended, slowing down for an oncoming red traffic light. I said to myself:

Toast: "I don't think she's slowing down."

And thats when it happened...BAM!!!!! Now, no-one was seriously injured here and basically I made out fine as all damages were covered under her insurance and I needn't worry about a thing. My Jeep was another story as "Nice Marmot" Jeep, while still driveable, had her rear end kinda smooshed and her frame was altered ever so slightly in the accident causing "Nice Marmot" to be dubbed with the term no vehicle wants to receive...totalled. Except, she wasn't totalled and with my father's keen ability to work on cars combined with one of his co-worker's keen ability to really work on cars, the Jeep was back at it and on the road. Better yet, I had made out like a bandit by getting full value for the vehicle from the insurance company and really didn't have any damages that needed me to pay to get fixed. In other words, I was paid close to 10 grand to have some lady smash into the back end of my Jeep at about 30 miles an hour and then just deal with "Nice Marmot's" self image issues.

Now, with all this going on a transformation occured in my Jeep, and more importantly, a transformation in my attention to detail in taking care of said Jeep. No longer would she be met with the handle "Nice Marmot. From then on my Jeep took on the surname...P.O.S., or piece of shit. I stopped really giving two shits about what she looked like and the little things, like a back door being unable to open or its inability to tow anything due to a slightly askew frame. Instead, it was something to get me from A to B.

But the P.O.S. was still more than that. It became a symbol of who I was, a dude. A dude that didn't have time to be bothered by a improperly functioning brake light or air conditioning that wasn't quite cold. A dude that was gritty, down and dirty, and had character as that certainly was what the P.O.S. was loaded with, character. The P.O.S. was the Toast and the Toast was the P.O.S.; someone that didn't give a shit what others thought and would be who he wanted and was meant to be, and damn, in a world that cares sooo much about self-image, the media, stars and starlets, the P.O.S. can be deemed as "fucking refreshing" when viewed in that light.

And don't look at her like a charity case either, the P.O.S. still performed admirably. Road trips, moe.downs, camping excursions, the P.O.S. was there driving away and doing her part with crazy V6 power. As Kool-Aid and I entered into a long distance relationship when she was in Grad School in Baltimore, who was it that getting this guy down there every other week??? The P.O.S., that's who; in all her slightly dented glory.

Over my last year here in VA, she didn't get the same amount of attention as she deserved. Unless I was driving to and fro rugby practice, games, hauling heavy and awkward items, or going to hockey and needed her spacious trunk and backseat for my gear, the P.O.S. was constantly parked in Fort Awesome's back lot and seldom driven. The rough life and tough winter's that the P.O.S. endured over the years had bitten her hard and a little over a month ago when I tried to take her out to a local golf course as Kool-Aid was set to drive off in what has been her replacement of late due to its stellar gas mileage, the L.B.C. (Little Baby Corolla), it was discovered that the driver's side door would no longer latch correctly. Following an afternoon taking her door apart I soon found that she required a trip to the garage to be properly fixed as I had little to no idea on what I was doing. Besides, she needed a Virginia inspection and registration as she still had her NY info and plates.

Now, comes the sad part. It is time to part ways with my whip. The P.O.S. has failed her VA state inpection due to (blatant air quotes) rust issues. Her rocker panels are rusted out, the aforementioned driver side door is having issues, the fog lights are no longer functioning, the passenger front door has a lock that is malfunctioning, and the rear brakes are among the assorted laundry list of problems that must be dealt with in order for the P.O.S. to have a chance to pass inspection and, to be blunt, it's just not worth it to fix a car in her state just because I drive it around for free.

I have been in contact recently with a local car guy who claims to be willing to purchase the P.O.S. for its still useable parts but it really is kinda sad to see her go. She was so utilitarian, she just got the job done but the sentimental value of this jeep can not be ignored. We had been through a lot together and I'm not happy to see her go; not happy in the least. I know she still has more fight in her but there is no justifucation to pay about $2000. in repairs to a car that is barely worth 50 bucks and this scenario has forced my hand into looking for a real replacement for the P.O.S. and I am finding myself leaning towards a Volkswagen oddly enough. A Passat...is that me??

Man, you should have been there when I picked her up though, lookin' good I tells ya. Now, a shell of her former self on the outside, her 6 cylinder, 190 Hp engine still roars like a fucking lion, king of the jungle baby!! My plan is to give her one more good run out on the road before I take the plates off to send back to NY to my father and call this guy to pick her up just to put her down. It'll be good to get her out there just one more time. To accelerate up steep hills, to slingshot past cars on the highway with the greatest of ease. Who knows, maybe, for the last time we'll get her on the rough terrain. Off roading into the sunset?? Whatever the case I'll miss you P.O.S., it's been a hell of a ride.