Words circling my mind, "It's finally nice out. Clean your car." But maybe six-year-old me didn't want to. My car, modeled after a 2003 Grand Cherokee, was dented in the front left panel; the flower bed never did recover. It was an old car, scarred with bumps and bruises, miles and mud, not only damaged, but I was told it was "the mom-mobile" of Jeeps. Apparently, there's a universal code among these illusive drivers: there was no room for my small, less intense car next to the big, outdoor vehicles. Never have I gotten the Jeep Gang wave or nod, simply just a stare as I pulled onto the road. All I wanted was to be a part of something, so I decided to give away my Barbie Jeep.