I drive another jeep. This one in recent years has turned into my dad's work jeep, which has made the already disgusting car, much grosser. My story about this jeep involves the one with the after-factory installed sunroof, the purpose of which remained undetermined, as it opened so slightly that no breeze could blow in yet latched so poorly that no water could stay out. I remember one day it was an absolute downpour. I was at the pool so it really didn't matter how wet I got but still I sprinted to the car. I jumped in, and honestly rememeber sighing out loud. I then reversed and Niagara Falls came pouring in. How typical. How convienent.

Because my sunroof was practically mocking me since it wouldn't open completley, I decided to open it backwards and never completely put it back on right. One day Katie and I were teasing about our stick shift machines and decided to race. I floored it, my speedometer barely exceeding fifty-two, when I heard this loud noise and realized my entire sunroof had just flown off my car. Stupid me, thought that I would find an intact piece of glass sitting on the side of the road just waiting to be picked back up. I was very wrong.

For some reason we didn't get it fixed for months. I'm not sure if it was because I loved the fact I actually had a sunroof or if it was because we were just that lazy. Probably the latter. But that summer I drove around with a tarp and boulders in the backseat. I had many towels handy to clean up the wet spots and to sit on, and learned that it's better to try to avoid stop lights when it is raining so the rain won't drill you in the face. That summer I got a better grasp on not caring when extremely inconvienent things happen to you because life will go on and who else can say their sunroof flew off their car.