Years ago I lived in a very snowy climate. For some reason, it seemed to drop a foot of snow every Saturday night. The roads wouldn’t be cleared until mid-Sunday afternoon.
A few days after one of these weekend blizzards, I ran into my pastor outside a hardware store. As I was loading my purchase into my Jeep, he said “I haven’t seen you in church for a while.” I explained the freak phenomenon of the weekend storms.
When I finished, he smiled and asked, “How does your Jeep drive through deep snow?” I told him it was very sure-footed, but It’s brand new. I’d hate to see it get dinged up.
He smiled again and asked,
“Do you own the Jeep, or does the Jeep own you?”
I treated my Jeep like a baby, and I allowed it to own me and change my behavior in a way that was unacceptable. I lived on a gravel road, and I would find myself coasting out of fear of kicking up a rock and marring the finish. When I drove off-road, I would stop to cut back branches of trees that might scratch the paint…even though the Jeep had a brush guard installed for stomping through trees.
A couple of weeks later, I traded in the Jeep for a used Ford F-150 pick up truck and an all-wheel drive Honda Civic wagon. After that, I wasn’t afraid to blast through snow or smash through brush. Someone else had already broken in my “new” vehicles, and all I had to do was enjoy them.
What owns you?
Hi Scott,
Reading through this post, found it very interesting. I had a similar experience with a high end luxury brand shoe that I wore to work – it had actually made me stop my unscheduled networking with colleagues, coz I would not walk around a lot and be more careful of the shoe rather than who I need to meet.
I junked it for regualr work shoes -a dress down in style gaves me a thumbs up in networking and knowing more people and doing my job better in a way.
Regards,
Rima