The Jeep Girls

I hit a milestone birthday a few years ago. One that ends in a zero. One that makes you stop and play mind games with yourself. Wait, I'm how old? No, that can't be. Really? No. Stop it! Go away!  Bombarded on a daily basis by a culture that seems to go out of its way to make you think you're past your prime- even if you're not- when I hit this birthday "the end" began creeping into my mind with an unrelenting vengeance. Is this it? What could possibly be left for me to do? Will I ever be of any value to anybody again? Stick a fork in me- I'm done.

Of course, I knee that was merely the years of self-doubt and insecurity once more fogging my perspective. Didn’t matter. Despite encouragement to the contrary from everyone else, I began to believe my life really was slipping away, the sand in the hour glass slipping away even faster. For the first time ever I felt ancient and irrelevant. And not for the first time, maybe even a little sorry for myself.  I wanted to be 17 again, or 19, or 25; anything under the age I'd involuntarily reached.

So that was my frame of mind one warm spring evening, not long after this particular birthday, as I was driving home from work. Heading eastbound on I-80 from Rocklin, near Horseshoe Bar Road, I passed a gray Jeep with a black hard shell. The two Jeep occupants were female. With the windows rolled down and, cruising along at the speed limit and their hair blowing in the evening breeze, it looked like they didn't have a care in the world. Kind of how I used to feel- young and free. But going 75 in the middle lane, the Jeep and its girls had been quickly left behind.

The radio was off and I was in full zone-out, avoiding other traffic and keeping to myself. But nearing Newcastle, the Jeep caught up in the adjacent lane. It took a second before I noticed it was there and matching my speed and, when I finally looked over, the girls smiled and waved. Then they sped ahead. You waving at me?  I wasn't behind the wheel of anything even remotely cool, and nothing about its driver would lead them to believe I was either. So I immediately dismissed the thought. Not possible.

 

Yet with only two cars on that particular patch of freeway, theirs and mine, I was forced to reconsider and sheepishly returned the nod; then, like a shy school boy, immediately looked away. But curiosity got the better of me and I turned back in time to see the Jeep chicks waving back. Then they sped up and move on ahead and I lost sight of them.. Well, that was cool, I thought. I also figured that was the end out little game of motorized peek-a-boo. However when I got to the Auburn exit at I-80 and Highway 49, there they were again. Where'd they come from?  I assumed they were long gone, but instead were now behind me, in my rear view mirror.

I had to move when the light changed green, but when I stopped again at the next light, they pulled next to me and the driver made a motion to roll down the window. “Where ya headed , Cowboy?”, she yelled, leaning in front of her passenger to make eye contact. I guess the cowboy hat on my head, the only distinctive feature about me, was the simplest point of reference to begin chatting with a total stranger."Goin' home”, I answered.

“Wanna go get something to eat with us?” she called out as the light turned green.

 

I was too shocked to answer, but she punched it and left me in the dust. However, I was stuck behind a big rig, and with the quickly moving Jeep already several car lengths ahead in another lane and accelerating, figured the inquiry was bogus. That was okay, though. I’d never seen either girl before and wasn't in the habit of accepting social invites from unknown free spirits sharing the road with me. But it was nice they asked, even though it’d merely been a drive-by tease. So moving up 49 through Auburn, my kismet moment now past, I snapped on the radio to put the Jeep girls out of my mind. In other words, I was too gutless to pursue.

 

An Oakland A's game was on and, now past the big-rig, found the traffic lighter and easier to maneuver through. Once again I settled into a zone, weaving around  the slower cars and barely paying attention to anything besides not hitting one. But half way past the Bel-Air Shopping Center, I glanced to my left and, like a "recurring weird dream, the Jeep was right next to me again. You’re kidding. I thought I’d lost they for sure- or they'd lost me- and I wondered where the hell they'd come from? They were still looking at me, too, only more curiously than back at the stoplight.  What? Is there food stuck in my teeth? Have I grown a third eye? What do you want?

 

Essentially, I knew they were just jerking my chain. But it'd been another otherwise forgettable day in a whole string of them. So, now that I’d caught up with them- or vice versa- I thought I'd amuse myself for a few miles and play along. When we hit the intersection at Bell Road, I turned and nodded Hello in their direction. That was answered by the ‘roll-down-your-window’ signal, and again from the driver babe. Over the din of rushing air she shouted, “Well? You coming with us or not?” Then she laughed. But it wasn’t at my expense or to be mean spirited. It was merely the laugh of being alive and having fun with her gal-pal on a warm spring evening. 

Still traveling side by when we hit the green light at Dry Creek and zipped past the new Taco Tree, I still hadn’t answered her yet, either. No other cars were anywhere near us, though, so we set a steady pace and continued driving within ear shot of each other.  "Come on!” the passenger Jeep girl chimed in. Okay, this is fun. Now they’re both playing with me. And I wanted to play along, too, but to end all doubt I held up my hand and pointed to my ring finger. “Sorry! Married!” I shouted. Buzz-kill! Of course, some guys wouldn't do that. And pre-1993, I wouldn't have either. But this was 2005. Doing the right thing was the only right thing to do. Both Jeep girls exchanged glances with each other before the driver called over,“Okay, Cowboy. Too bad. Woulda been fun.” But before they sped away she yelled my way one more time. “See ya cutie!” and blew an exaggerated kiss. And then off they went, still laughing.

Both girls looked to be somewhere in their 20's; probably past the college years but probably still short of 30, too. Both were blond, though the driver's hair was longer than her passenger. And they were most assuredly not ugly. So it made me laugh. There was little doubt I was merely a bit player in whatever mischief they'd planned for themselves. I'm a troll, come on. What were they thinking? The better question, though, was probably: what were they on? I’ll never know. But they were fun.Certainly made the end of this troll’s day more fun. However, they were now well out of sight. Yet as I lagged behind, going the speed limit, the whimsical Jeep was still on my mind. So it startled me when I managed to catch up to it one more time

Seven miles down the road, it, and its passengers, was stopped to turn left at Running M Drive. As I sped past, I didn’t want to look but couldn’t help myself, either, and glanced in the mirror in time to see the driver chick waving above the open left hand window. Then I crested the hill. When I looked again, the girls and the Jeep had vanished from sight, already down the bent sloped road that cuts through the meandering rural Running M residential area. And I wondered, had I gone along with them, where they planned to take me to dinner? Because there ain't nothin' out that way except cows and horses and ranches. Again I’ll never know and didn’t matter because this time, they were gone for good.

Yet as the sun set in the west, and never one to overlook the obvious, it hit me that I'd just been flirted with. I think so, anyway. Couldn't be totally sure because being the flirt-ee has always been such a foreign experience. It hadn’t happening to me in school, or college, not that I can recall. It hadn’t happened when I was single, either, and able to do something about it. Or maybe it did but I was too dim to figure it out. Whatever, I' was  pretty sure it'd really just happened to me then- out there on Highway 49 on a Friday night a few weeks into middle age and many years into my marriage. How 'bout that?

Now before anyone gets the wrong idea, there was no chance I'd take my two brief admirers up on their offer. None. I'm a lot of things but stupid isn't one of them- at least not that stupid. I like my marriage and love my Amy. But I have to admit, the attention was kind of nice. For a few minutes, or about twenty five miles, these forever unknown sweet girls came along and splashed a little color into the end of an otherwise drab and ordinary day. They made me smile and I was flattered. And as I continued home, all of a sudden I felt a little less extraneous and little more viable. At least more so than when I'd left the office.

And just when I thought I'd never turn a lady's head again, somehow I had. Two of 'em. Whether I believed that or not, the mere thought was like getting a shot of air pumped into an often deflated and sagging sense of worth. It was a welcome reminder that no matter how long God lets me hang around Planet Earth, chance spice-of-life serendipity moments like that can still occur at any time, at any place, and even to young-at-heart relics like me.