Maggie & Jack: An Off-Road Romance

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The first time Maggie Bennett met Jack Carter, he was standing in the middle of a Dollar General parking lot in the North Georgia mountains. 

That wasn't exactly how she'd imagined meeting a man. Not that she'd been trying to meet anyone.

At 54, Maggie had mostly stopped thinking about romance of any kind. 

She had a job, a mortgage, a grown daughter who called often enough to keep tabs on her, and a blue Jeep TJ she'd owned long enough to know every rattle and leak. 

The Jeep was older than some of the people she worked with. She trusted it more than most of them.

What Maggie didn't have was much of a life outside work.

That realization had been bothering her lately.

So when a North Georgia Jeep group posted an easy-to-moderate Saturday ride through the national forest, Maggie did something she normally wouldn't have done.

She signed up. She knew nobody in the group.

That almost stopped her. Almost.

Saturday morning found her standing in a Dollar General parking lot in Ellijay with coffee in one hand while about a dozen Jeeps idled around her.

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There were lifted Wranglers on 37s, a couple of Gladiators, an old Cherokee that looked like it had survived several wars on the trails and Maggie's mostly stock TJ on 31-inch tires.

She suddenly felt underprepared.

"You'll be fine," a man said.

She turned.

The man standing beside her was probably somewhere in his mid-50s, maybe a little older. Gray showed through his beard and his hair. His T-shirt had seen better days, and his boots suggested he was a man who worked outside and didn't care much if he got dirty.

He nodded toward the TJ.

"Good tires. Short wheelbase. That's more capable than half the expensive stuff sitting here," the man said. 

Maggie looked at the line of heavily modified Jeeps.

"That's either reassurance or you're making fun of them."

"Little of both," he replied.

He held out his hand.

"Jack."

"Maggie," she replied, giving him a firm handshake.

He pointed toward a dark green Wrangler Rubicon several vehicles away.

"That's mine," Jack said.

She looked at the winch, recovery gear and scratches running down both sides.

"So you're one of those people," Maggie stated.

"What people?"

"The ones who say, 'It's just a little scratch,' after dragging a forty-thousand-dollar vehicle through a tree."

Jack smiled.

"First scratch is traumatic. After that, they're souvenirs," Jack said.

Someone called for drivers to get into their vehicles.

Jack started walking away, then turned.

"You're behind me. If something looks questionable, stop and I'll spot you through it."

"I can drive," Maggie replied a bit huffily. 

"I didn't say you couldn't," Jack countered.

"You implied it."

"I was trying to be helpful," Jack said with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"Work on your delivery," Maggie retorted.

He laughed.

Maggie climbed into the TJ smiling despite herself and got in line behind the handsome man in the green Wrangler.