The Land Rover Diaries, vol. 5

Fully committed (maybe).

Last week, I went to a rock concert with my significant other and another couple—three punk rock tribute bands playing at a club in St. Paul. It was a fun show (OK, maybe a little too loud for my aging ears), a proper rock ‘n roll evening. We even made it until 11:00! When we left the show, we walked to our respective vehicles together. My friend also drives an old Land Rover Defender and we’ve spent the past few years bonding over leaks, corroded fasteners, and electrical gremlins, often on our backs on a cold garage floor together. When we got to our parking spot on a side street, we realized we’d parked right next to one another, except not in our trusty old British trucks. No, we both came to a rock concert in our girlfriends’ Toyota Priuses. I had to chuckle as we both saw our dates into the passenger side, and then slid in behind the steering wheel, pushed the START button, and silently—efficiently— drove off into the night. Sometimes you choose your battles.