I’m at 36,000 feet as I punch out these words on my computer. This isn’t the way I wanted to be writing this article. The plan was to break out the defibrillator paddles and revive my ’46 CJ-2A for a triumphant return to Moab. It’s been 12 years since the Jeep or I have attended the annual event, and we were both ready to do it again. But, as often is the case, the list of things to do on my Jeep grew at a rate that outpaced the amount of time left before 2014 Easter Jeep Safari kicked off. So I closed the garage door – even if my Flatfender compadre couldn’t make its return to Moab, I still could.