The Shindenburg, as told...

She got about 15 miles to the gallon, and only when it didn't have a gaping hole in the fuel tank could I fill all 15 gallons to capacity to go wherever I was going. And that probably wasn't too far.

The Green 1996 Jeep Cherokee, 2.5 liter, 5-speed, 4 door, 4-wheel-drive that I owned for 6 years was one of a kind. On many levels. It was the only 4-cylinder Cherokee I had ever heard of, and every mechanic that worked on it said the same. There were many of those, too. And it always gave them problems, and time in the shop always exceeded what they originally thought would be.

She was one of a kind in a different sense, in that she was one of many kinds of Jeeps that could make it from point A to point B with more than a handful of problems that needed fixing. Talking to other Jeep owners I realized that this is true: if you need to get somewhere in your Jeep, you can get there. On a prayer, on a bad track bar, or on one good U-Joint.

She was one of a kind because when it failed to start up, usually a hammer on the gas tank and a few slaps on the dash could right the problem. Sometimes it would take the threat of calling Triple-A and having the truck driver say "You won't get by on that trick for long, that fuel pump is gonna go soon," only to have the Jeep make them look like a fool. I never replaced the fuel pump and kept my trusty hammer in the trunk for 2 years. Started up every time.

But her reign as "Top-Piece-Of-Junk-On-Four-Wheels" had to end at some point, and it did this week. As it was affectionately known by my friends as "The Shindenburg" (I'll get into that in a minute), the final chapter of the legacy now punctuates its last sentence as a trade-in in the parking lot of Merlin Motors on Forest Ave. I asked people to post their favorite memories that surrounded the Forest Green 1996 Cherokee 2.5, 5-speed, 4-door, 4-wheel drive. Here are some of the stories.

"All the rides to the beach, me having control of the radio and dancing to "Last Night" in the front seat, and having fun in the back seat while you were driving HAHAHA"

-Ali

Oh boy. I guess I have to bring up how the 'Burg was a dirty taxi sometimes. But only once did someone else start "rounding the bases"...if you will... other than me and I'll spare you the details, and who it was.

Going to the beach was and still is a very important part of my summer. In 2007, I would go almost twice a week to Higgins, my favorite stretch of sand, mostly for the surf. Ali and I came up with a system where one of us pays for gas (usually me) and she would pay for the $10 parking fee. For some reason, as Ali attested to, the rides to and from Higgins became memorable just because of the tunes we listened to on the commute. It's where I discovered and started to enjoy bands like My Morning Jacket--to Ali's credit.

As to Ali's baseball game in the back seat, lets just say I had no idea what was going on. So, sorry to those of you who sat in the back seat after that little incident.

"You, me, Hambone and Jordan digging out the Green Monster out of two feet of snow so we can go riding, then during the ride slipping on the road doing a full 180"

-Pete

A lot of these stories come from Sophomore year at U-Maine. Especially from the 2nd semester, because she sat dead in the parking lot for most of the first semester.

Sophomore year was particularly snowy that winter, and we must have had at least 4 snow days between December and March, an un-precedented number for a U-Maine school year. These snow days led to "The Igloo," and rides through the snow in the only vehicle that could handle it among our cars.

Yep, the Shindenburgh had a trusty 4-wheel drive that can attribute to my claim of NEVER getting stuck in it. There were close calls though.

One of those close calls came during one of those snow days. Probably the snowiest of those snow days, and if you've never been out driving during a snow storm in a trusty truck or SUV, you don't know what you're missing. That's exactly what we wanted to do that day, so we spent almost a half hour digging it out and reversing through a snowbank, and off we went through tbe backroads of Orono and Old Town.

Most of them were unplowed, or gone over just once from the town trucks with salt & sand. Nonetheless, the roads were pretty sketchy. But we carried on through the storm and the empty roads, taking it slow and keeping it in 4. Only when we started going around a sharp corner did the Jeep loose traction and started to skid. A low point on the side of the road caused the back tires to slip and fishtail to the right. Being a 5-speed, I let off the gas and tried to re-gain control, but to no avail. We slid 180 degrees around and ended up backwards in a snow bank on the other side of the road. No one in the Jeep freaked out, but the lady snow-blowing her driveway just ahead of us was caught by surprise to say the least. We gave her a wave and went on our way.

"[The ones] I don't remember. Oh and the dead jellyfish"

-Moose

OK, here's the disclaimer: I did not intend on having existent blackout memories and stories originate from my Jeep, nor was I blackout or impaired while behind the wheel at any point during these stories.

But some of these stories are just too good to omit.

Dead Jellyfish? Really?

Not exactly, but in the imaginations of a few passengers during freshman year, yes. Dead Jellyfish. And other sea creatures.

It was all part of the epic Magical Mystery Tour. The cast: Me, Pete, Mackay, and Moose.

There are some parts of the story that I'll leave out for obvious reasons, but here's a breakdown of what it was.

Magical: A few things. Magical because Maine is an intriguing state, and lures those who have not explored outside the metro areas of the southern part with a childish curiosity. Magical also because...well...there were some substances that enhanced Maine's magic and incorporated ones own imagination to make the intangible...well...illusional. Use your imagination.

Mystery: I was the captain of this event because I had the vessel that would carry us through the journey. So I wanted to keep a few surprises in store for my friends who were all from Massachusetts on the itinerary.

Tour: Multiple locations, multiple events. That constitutes a tour, right? Well, leaving at midnight from U-Maine, going to Mount Desert Island to walk on an imaginary ice shelf at Sand Beach, being followed by the cops, ducking into a secret hideout where we saw dead whales and dodged pine trees fits that description. Going down to Belfast then catching a sunrise on the Stillwater river after breakfast at Dysarts. Yes, it all was magical, mysterious, and...tour...ish.

Upon our return, we realized that the Ice Shelf was just frozen sand, dodging pine trees was just winding our way through a heavily wooded dirt road, and the dead jellyfish and whales were just tidal rocks with seaweed on them in the moonlight. How could that be?

It's just magic, ok? Let's leave it at that.

"Driving to and from Sunday River. Good times"

-Rob

Good times. Thats what it's all about. Great story Rob!

But yes, driving to and from the ski resorts of Maine was part of the Jeep's duties. During high school, I volunteered with Maine Handicapped Skiing at Sunday River, and many tired drives back from the mountain through the backroads of Cumberland County got me home after a day of skiing.

One of the most treacherous drives to go skiing happened senior year, during yet another blizzard. Me and Mike Browne loaded up at 5 am bound for Sugarloaf. One lane of I-95 was plowed, which didn't help much because it was snowing almost a foot per hour. Going 35 down the highway really cuts into your ETA, but I was in the right vehicle to get the job done.

Another ski adventure was at the biggest non-resort skier destination in New England. Otherwise known as Tuckerman's Ravine. That in itself is another story that I will post to this blog, but the three of us (Dan, Mike and myself) conquored the journey and skied the Ravine in November, an unwise decision looking back because there simply is not enough snow to make the wall exactly skiable. We could only go half way up before it got too steep to go any higher, and after hiking in with our ski boots on, it was all of the energy we could muster. But the Jeep carried us home, just in time for Dan, where he ended up with a stomach virus from drinking out of a stream and was up all night puking. Lesson: don't drink out of a stream when you're hiking. Seriously, don't even think of doing it. Deer and squirrels and mice take craps in the streams you know.

"Riding out in the wee hours of the morning including but not limited to puking, harassing, unintentionally sleeping, drooling, eating and being beligerent/ignorant. And Sea Kayaking!!!"

-Hambone

Drooling? OK Hambone, maybe I should have cleaned the Jeep a little better before I traded it in.

It carried people, and it carried kayaks. I could fit 2 or 3 sea kayaks on the roof with so much as pool noodles duct taped to the racks. Me and Hambone spent 2 summers of beer-yak adventures through Harpswell harbor. It is there where I realized just exactly why Pirates were drunks: It is MUCH more fun to ride the waves in the ocean when you have a good buzz going than when you're sober. Touche, Captain Jack Sparrow.

Well these stories are just a skim across the surface (no intentional pun alluded to the previous story). Yes, the Shindenburgh was many things. It was a bedroom, a cafeteria, a house party, and a Kayak carrier. It was also an ambulance, a limo, an escort, and a tent. It also tailgated a couple of times. Here's a quick run through of some of those roles:

Bedroom:

You would have to keep the tailgate open and position yourself diagonally across the back with the seat down, but eventually you'd get a good sleep in. I guess this sort of collides with the role of "Tent." I camped in the back of the 'Burgh a few times at Mount Desert Island.

Cafeteria/Tailgating:
Tailgating was easy in that thing because you could create your own kitchen in the back. We tailgated my only U-Maine football game that I attended as an actual fan (not a working member of the media). Two coolers, a charcoal grill, multiple bags of food. Oh yeah....you could conjure up a feast.

House Party:
I guess it's not exactly a house party if it's not at an actual house. But for all intensive purposes, trust me when I say there were many times you would hear loud music and beligerent hooligans bellowing from the Shindenburg.

Ambulance:
When your friend is about to throw up, you get to where you're going mighty quick.

When someone in your family is suffering in pain from a Chemo treatment, you really get home quick. You never understand the torture that is Chemotherapy until you witness it yourself. Every bump on the ride back would result in them shaking and screaming in pain. It's something that completely carpet bombs your system.

Escort:
Working in radio has its many perks, one of them being meeting famous musicians. I've unloaded equipment from State Radio's van and talked to Michael Franti about why he's gone barefoot for almost 10 years. I've also been responsible for getting country star Joe Nichols to the stage for WPOR's Concert at the Beach.

As the story goes, I was working to set up the venue for the show later that night, and attended Joe's sound check early that afternoon. My boss approached me afterward and asked me if I could "give Joe a ride to his hotel." At first, I hesitated because I knew my Jeep wasn't that...visually appealing nor could it go very fast. To which, my boss said, "Can it fit them? Can it get there? Yes? Well then get them in the Jeep, and GET ON THE ROAD!" So I did, and we got there. With Joe Nichols riding shotgun, I called my girlfriend Michelle to tell her the news. Lets say she didn't exactly believe me when I said "I'm giving Joe a ride to the hotel." Later that night, I would get lost in Saco trying to give Bo Bice and Katie Armiger a ride to their hotel. And I only got $500 trade for it.

Limo:
You would think I'd find something classy to drive my date to the prom in.

Yeah right, saddle up in the Jeep baby.


So that's The Shindenburgh, as told by many. The farthest I took it was to Spencer, Mass for a New Years party. Almost didn't make it back because none of us had money to get more gas. But we did, and six years of "IF it runs" got me through half of high school and all of college. Why was it called the Shindenburg? I think Mackay coined the name, and there isn't any grand story behind the name other than it rhymes with my last name. When it developed a hole in the fuel tank, I liked to add that it could blow up at any time like the Hindenburg. People didn't really smoke near it after I said that.

I got a Ford Focus now. It's silver, gets 3o miles to the gallon, and shall now be referred to as "The Silver Bullet."