I own a 2012 Jeep Wrangler Sport. When I was car shopping, I just knew that was the vehicle I wanted to own. See, back in my high school hay-days, I was lucky enough to have parents who knew I would need a car. But instead of buying some cheap sedan, they figured they’d kill two birds with one stone.
They decided they would buy a third car. But this car would be their joint “mid-life crisis car,” and it was a 1989 Red Jeep Wrangler. It was a manual, grey interior with a soft top. If it weren’t for my parents buying this gorgeous vehicle, I probably would’ve never learned to drive stick. My friends in high school always wanted me to drive — in the summer that is — top down, music up. That’s literally how I rolled in the late 90’s. Don’t judge. I was rocking out to Eminem, Biggie, and Bone Thugs.
I had the soft windows on doors. Those doors didn’t have locks. The face of the stereo came off. This car had no locks, anywhere. I never had to worry about locking myself out of it. It was just another reason to love this carefree car.
Fast forward to 2012, and it’s time for me to buy my dream car. Unlike my 1989 Jeep, my 2012 has locks. The center console locks. The glove box locks. Yet because of my 1989 Jeep, I can’t seem to remember to lock my 2012 doors.
If someone is going to break into my car, with a soft top, I’d rather they just open the door, steal the loose change that’s in the back seat, rummage through the empty Red Bull cans and go on their way.
Call me paranoid, but I just don’t want a thief to cut through the soft top. I’d rather replace a few items then a new top to my baby. Actually, maybe I’m not paranoid. Someone did rummage through my car, stole my iPhone charger and my auxiliary cable. Not sure why they didn’t take my four pens and two pairs of sunglasses. To replace, it cost me a little over $40.
That’s the price I’m willing to pay to not have to by a new top.