Frank, Deborah, a Mother-in-Law--and a CJ7 from Hell
Submitted by Frank Costanzo

I was living in northwest Ohio and attending law school with Deborah, the love of my life who, despite this story, still decided to marry me. We had been dating for a few months and it was time to "meet the parents," who lived in Washington D.C. We left in the late afternoon, the weather was deteriorating, but alas I had no worries as my trusty and mighty 1984 Jeep CJ7 would get us through.

By the time we reached Columbus, sleet gave way to wind gusts and ice. The CJ was doing great, but I began to notice that ice was building on the wiper blades in large quantities. At about the time the driver-side wiper blade started to look like a frozen corndog on a stick, something funny began to happen: The wiper arm began to flail wildly, sometimes hitting the window, sometimes waving straight out in mid-air, and then like some Willy Wonka-esque contraption, began to self-destruct with wild gyrations and horrible groans. The rusted frame around the wiper mount completely broke off, allowing the blade to convulse violently on the hood, as ice quickly covered the windshield to the point that the blade was no longer visible. I thought, "This is not good."

We stopped at a mom n' pop gas station run by a conversational young man who seemed to enjoy nothing more than standing on the service island in the blistering cold, hands in pocket, and gabbing with his customers as they pumped gas. About five gallons into the pump, having fully tuned out this gentleman's droning about the Steelers' lousy season, I heard, "Does your Jeep always smoke like that?" My attention immediately was drawn to billowing smoke emanating from both sides of the hood. I popped open the hood to reveal a barbecue that Carol Shelby himself would be proud of.

For all the lousy things I said about the service station attendant, he sure was good with a fire extinguisher. Needless to say we were not going any further that night. We were assured that the Jeep could be fixed the next day.

We pulled into the drive of my soon-to-be mother-in-law's condominium complex later the following day. As I walked with our bags toward her building, I looked back over my shoulder, musing about how we had triumphantly overcome all to arrive where we were now. Looking at the front of the Jeep, its round headlights looked like two panicked eyes as clouds of smoke vented from both sides of the hood like some sort of fire breathing dragon.

My mother-in law's first glimpse of her darling daughter's husband-to-be was just as I ran past her--with a fire extinguisher freshly freed from its glass enclosure in her condo's common area--off to slay the CJ dragon.