When the alarm went off, it was dark. It was Saturday. I leaned over to whack the snooze soundly. Then, I remembered: Saturday is Geocaching day!
I rolled out of bed, threw on my geocaching uniform: won't-pick-up-burrs pants, muddy sneakers, and a pricker-resistant jacket with capacious pockets. Grabbed the ever-packed caching bag (because you never know when the urge to hunt yet another cache will hit you), threw some munchies in, and ran to the garage.
I opened the garage door. And was absolutely crushed to see that my cachemobile, my beloved reliable goes everywhere takes anything cachemobile was gone. My Jeep. Where was my beautiful yellow Jeep? Who could have taken it? How would I, how could I go geocaching without it? I was completely despondent.
Then I noticed a small piece of paper on the floor. It said, "If you want your yellow Jeep back, you'll have to find it". Ah! I know how to do that. The coordinates were faint but readable. Reluctantly, but knowing it was the only answer, I climbed determinedly into my husband's very uncool mobile.
After a few miles, I closed in on the coordinates. A bit puzzled, I was, as I viewed the little town square at which I'd arrived. Guess my Jeep was not hidden here. Hopped out of the uncool mobile, scanned the landscape, and put my beady eye on that GPS arrow. 21 feet, 17 feet, 12 feet. I found myself face to face with a cannon. Ha. I'd seen this hide before. Reaching inside, I pulled out a nifty little magnetic key holder.
Clearly, this hide was going to be a multi. And where was my beloved Jeep? There was a note inside the key holder. More coordinates. Involving math. But I'd do anything for my Jeep. So out came the calculator. Radius. Pi. I conquered the world of math and found the much longed for coordinates.
As I sped down that country road toward the promised land, following my coordinates toward the ultimate find, I began to fear the worst. What if my Jeep was, gulp, washed? What if someone buffed out all those briar scratches I got on it last summer while geocaching in Colorado? What if someone removed all of my Geocaching stickers from the bumper?
As my mind raced through disasters, my GPS indicated I was closing in on the cache. But my yellow Jeep was nowhere to be seen. Climbing out of the car, I spied the traditional hollow stump ammo box hide. I ran to the box, yanked it open. And there it was: a Yellow Jeep Travelbug. I screamed. And woke up tangled in my covers, bereft and unJeeped.
My yellow Jeep was nothing but a dream. But, who knows? Sometimes, dreams do come true.