Jacob’s White Jeep, Reviewed

May 7

"The Jeep Patriot (MK74) is a front-engine four-door compact crossover SUV manufactured and marketed by Jeep". By all standards, a Jeep Patriot is quite the average SUV; nothing, in particular, sticks out about its build besides its boxy look and funny-looking headlights that resemble a pair of eyes. Compared to newer cars, it lacks some beneficial things like Apple car play, a backup camera, or a great sound system, but at the end of the day, it has four wheels and drives, which is all you need. Most people would not stop to look at someone driving a Jeep Patriot, but when one particular Jeep Patriot with its windows down, playing music, full of teenage boys, and obeying some but not all traffic laws drives by, that's when you turn some heads.

Jacob Lewis, a good friend of mine, is the driver of the car just described to you. Jacob is technically an adult now but displays the boundless wonder and joy similar to that of a young child. Jacob is a special person, and his car is alike. In a small-sized tray on the passenger seat side is a collection of various sunglasses that you can find in a gas station. In each cup holder, there is a McDonald's soda cup, a water bottle, or a Gatorade. In the second row, there is a collection of clothes that have been in the car for who knows how long, maybe a school bag, a volleyball, and some shoes, and when you got inside, Jacob would tell you to "move it all to one side" or "put it in the trunk." The trunk wasn't spotless either. Lastly, there is a smell made up of a multitude of items, including a base scent of a sex wax air freshener and undertones of volleyball shoes and old clothes. But, the smell wasn't too bad. However, that is different from what makes the car unique.

Whenever I got into Jacob's car, I knew that the possibilities of what we were about to do were, by no exaggeration, endless. If it was just us or a larger group of our close friends, we felt like he had the world in the palm of our hand, or at least the greater Los Angeles area. Our primary destinations were the Palisades Chipotle, the Malibu McDonald's, and the beach. But the most fun was had inside the car on the drive to places like that. What made Jacob's car special was that it felt like you could say anything and you wouldn't be judged for it. The conversations in that car covered nearly everything you could think of. For the most part, it was us messing around saying the first funny thing that came to mind, but sometimes, people would ask to share something serious, and we would all sit and listen. The car was a therapy session on wheels, and it also was free if you didn't count gas or the food we would often buy. Because how good can a conversation really be if you don't have some good food. But in all seriousness, the conversation in that car has helped shape me and my friends as people. My friends and I have talked about all the stress and anxiety we may feel, problems at home, problems we have with other people, problems with girls (girls were talked about a lot), or just venting to get our feelings out. The maturity of the passengers of the car could change in a heartbeat when we realized that we had to be ready to offer help to one of our friends. My youth pastor, Markel Croston, has said many times, "If you want to know where you will be in 5-10 years, look at your closest friends, and that will tell you a lot". The group of young men I have had the privilege of sharing my high school experience with are, in all honesty, like brothers to me, and I am incredibly grateful to have them in my life. An essential part of high school is finding your people; it makes a difference when you look at your high school experience as a whole. Everyone needs to have a group of people that they can look at and know they would do anything for them. Often, people do have a strong group of friends, but they are rarely in situations where they will have conversations that leave them vulnerable. It doesn't need to be a car, but everyone needs a space or setting where they can feel comfortable and share with their friends.

One particular instance that comes to mind when I reflect on my favorite memories in the Jeep is one October night in 2022. It was just a regular school night, and Jacob had asked me if I wanted to go on a drive; of course, I said yes because who could decline an invitation like that? I don't remember if my homework was done, but I would say it wasn't if I had to bet. At the time,

Jacob and I had both experienced breakups with our girlfriends that neither of us saw coming, and we both were hurting. We hadn't planned on speaking to each other about our situations, but when we took our usual right turn onto the pch we opened up. Throughout the night, we shared more and more as we ventured into the night down the pch accompanied by a soundtrack of our favorite sad songs. And, of course, we had to make a stop at McDonald's. But as we pulled out of the drive-through with our nuggets and fries ready to turn around as usual, we both had an unspoken agreement that it wasn't time to go home yet. We drove what felt like forever down Malibu until we both agreed it was finally time to come home. During our drive back to the rest of the world, we talked to each other about our breakups and how we would get past them. Furthermore, we arrived at the conclusion that we have each other, our friends, and Jesus. As we headed home, we wrapped up our conversation, and as we pulled up to my house, we knew the night was ending, but we also knew we would have countless other nights similar to this.

The phrase "if these walls could talk" is often used when people speak of a childhood home or a place that is very special to them, and I feel the same way about Jacob's car. Some memories have been lost in the crevices of those car seats that I will never get back, but in the moment, they were special. I would sit for hours just to listen to the car talk about all its favorite memories with us. But sadly, cars can't talk. On one fateful day, September 24th, 2023, I received a text notifying me that Jacob had rear-ended someone on the pch and conditions were critical. Jacob was left untouched, but the car looked like it was on its deathbed. Jacob's insurance considered the car too expensive to fix and labeled it totaled. And just like that the car was no more. It isn't reasonable to expect an insurance company to understand the value that car held to us; to us, it was priceless, but to them, it was just another teenager's car that got into a bad wreck. Although the Jeep passing away was unforeseen and saddening, it represents an important change in the lives of all those who held connections to the car. But now that the Jeep has passed and he has had time to mourn its loss, my friends and I have realized that we don't need a specific car to have the ability to open up with; we need each other. To this day, we still take drives with each other and have the same conversations, just as we did with the Jeep Patriot. We have grown up and can have deep conversations in all sorts of settings, but without the Jeep, it wouldn't be the same. Jacob is a senior getting ready to head into college with his new Volkswagen Tiguan and his new collection of stickers on the back window. My friends and I all have our driver's licenses and are nearing the end of our junior year and getting ready to be seniors. Soon enough, Jacob will graduate and leave for college, but our friendship isn't even close to being over.

The countless nights spent out past curfew in the Jeep Patriot have helped shape me into who I am today. I wouldn't trade the time I spent in that car in exchange for some assignments being turned in on time and my parents trusting that I would arrive home on time. The Jeep is no longer with us, and it was never particularly clean or smelled that good. I give Jacob's White Jeep Patriot 4.5 out of 5 stars.