My Favorite Thing

The first day of school I am instructed in every class to sit down and complete a sheet all about me, including my favorite thing.

And while so many of my peers sit down at thier desks to contemplate what part of themselves is worth documening on the (meaningless) paper,

I encounter no difficulty deciding exaclty what I want to write.

Athough the concept of a car being a target of my affections may seem foreign to many young women, it is by no means a stranger to me.

And even boys, who's lives seem to revolve around cars and girls asses (though they consistently fail to mention that on their "all about me" sheets), don't fully grasp why I love my Wrangler so dearly.

But until you get behind the wheel of a Jeep,

Until you turn the key and feel your heart roar to life alongside the engine,

Until your spirits begin to feel that they, too, have a four inch lift and your enthusiasm grows even larger than the thirty-six inch tires,

Until the rush of speeding with no top and no doors makes you have no fears,

Until the wind in your face rips off the cocoon of worries and doubts you constantl carry around,

Until the beat of the deafening music drowns your sorrows,

And until the heat of the sun melts away anything but the blissful sunshine of the day,

You will not understand.

But I do.




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