This story started at Fort Riley, Kansas in the early fall of 1945. We were out on bivouac at the fort. This meant that we were camping in our pup tents. We slept on the ground with just two small holes dug in the ground to fit out cheeks. Those are not facial cheeks.

It was just the time of the World Series. Chicago was losing to the Detroit Tigers.

As I probably have said before, we were supposedly in the mechanized cavalry. The only thing mechanized about us was we were moved in 4x4 trucks.

This particular day each soldier was given the opportunity to drive a jeep for about 15 minutes each. I don't remember how I came to be driving up this dry creek bed. I only remember the sergeant in the back seat telling me to turn left. "Sarge, you're crazy, that's a steep bank on the left." Never-the-less I turned left and the little jeep that could climbed that rocky bank. Partly, the back wheels pushed and then the front wheels pulled and suddenly we were on top of the bank.

I was hooked. From that day forward I always wanted to own my own jeep. Unfortunately, I could never justify the price of my own.

Then in the spring of 1998 I saw my jeep. It wasn't really a Chrysler Motors Jeep, but it was an Isuzu Trooper - a four wheel drive jeep type. It was sitting on a used car lot and was priced at only three thousand dollars. Finally, here was my jeep and I could now justify the price.

I bought the vehicle and retired my Honda Civic to my shop. The Honda had primarily been bought to be the tow car for my motor home, but I used it almost exclusively around town and for going to and from the golf course.

The Trooper was a little bit easier to load my golf clubs into than the trunk of my Honda. However, the Honda had the greatest heater I've ever seen. By the time I drive it a half mile, even on the coldest morning, my Honda is throwing heat. Inside another mile I have to turn it down.

I was balancing out in my mind whether I wanted to continue driving the Trooper to the golf course. It's usually pretty cool or downright cold early in the morning when I head for golf.

Then, on June 10th of 1998, I had my fibrillation, and came within minutes of buying the farm. Finally, I had been confronted with my own mortality. I was now aware that I probably wasn't going to live forever.

At this point, it finally became plain to me that I wouldn't be looking for a dry creek bed to drive up and I wouldn't really be looking for rough trails to drive my jeep up. I decided I should sell my dream.

My son and daughter-in-law came to visit me and to take me down to the little church I attend at Cathlamet, Washington. On the way down there I mentioned that I thought I'd sell the Trooper. My daughter-in-law, Sally, said they would be interested in buying it so she could drive up to their condominium on Mount Baker, Washington.

I said I had a great deal for them. I valued the Trooper at $3000, so, send your brother and sister-in-law $1500 and the Trooper is yours.

So ended my 53 year dream of owning my very own Jeep. All with a small dull thud.