My Husband Has Taken a Lover and I Want Her Gone!
I should have expected something like this. A midlife crisis. The eighteen-year itch. Of course, I thought after all these years I’d somehow managed to tame my man. Oh, how wrong I was. I only have myself to blame.
About a year ago, I told my husband I didn’t want our kids going off to college without knowing how to drive a manual transmission vehicle. I know most cars are automatic now, but I had visions of them going out with a group of their friends, everyone drinking too much to drive except my perfect angels who would volunteer to chauffeur everyone home. Only the car they’d driven in was a stick shift and my babies didn’t know how to operate such complicated machinery. I’m sure you can imagine my horror.
My parents had a manual transmission car and so did my husband’s parents. Back in the olden days, pretty much everybody did. Our children live in a world very different from ours, but learning to drive a stick shift car seemed to me like a very important life skill to acquire.
Just about this time, my husband visited a friend who’d recently refurbished an old Jeep Scrambler. He fell in love at first sight. Using the very same qualities I admire in him most—his laser like focus and dogged determination—he scoured the Internet and found the answer to both of our prayers. Only for one of us, his obsession has turned into a nightmare. Here’s the jeep he bought:
You’re probably thinking the same thing I was thinking when the jeep arrived: that’s not exactly what I had in mind. Does this look safe? To my soon-to-be fifteen-year old son, this jeep looks like a loaded gun, a line of crack, and an easy girl with a smoking hot body whose parents are out of town for the weekend all wrapped into one. Yeah, this looks like T-R-O-U-B-L-E. Only it gets worse.
“When just right just ain’t good enough.” That’s the motto my husband’s friends have created in his honor. Everybody needs a good tag line and this one hits the bull’s-eye. His diamond in the rough needed a little work. Here is what the jeep looks like today:
Yes, that is the same car. Only everything has been replaced. EVERYTHING. Including the manual transmission, which had to be replaced with an automatic. But, wait? Wasn’t that the whole reason we got the jeep in the first place—to teach the kids how to drive a stick shift? Why, yes. Yes, it was.
We now own a sixteen year old’s wet dream, with no manual transmission, and a body so perfect my husband will never, not in a million years, let his almost teenaged son drive. Well done, my loving husband, well done.
So for any of you out there who may be in the market for a completely refurbished, pristine 1984 Jeep Scrambler, I expect this to be on the market within six months. Because the fun of this jeep, that’s spent more time in the shop than in our garage, has been in the refurbishing. Now that she’s done, I expect the fun to wear off in about a half a year before the next of his lovers comes along to tempt him. In the mean time, if you could make me feel a little better about this situation, I’d love to hear how you rid your husbands or significant others of their paramours.