When the United States Army accepted freelance designer Karl Probst’s prototype for a four-wheel-drive reconnaissance car via the bankrupt Bantam Car Company in the summer of 1940, there’s simply no way they could’ve imagined how beloved (and lucrative) the little monster machine would one day become.

Their modest, pragmatic creation would eventually turn into the “Jeep” (a name many claim derived from the slurring of the initials “G.P.” — “General Purpose” or Government Purpose”). Yes, the one and only.

And while it evolved many times over after crawling from the primordial ooze within Probst’s creative mind, America’s favorite utility vehicle in its modern form is commonplace pretty much everywhere. It rumbles through fields and dense forest dirt roads, it plunges through beach sand and, of course, it speeds down interstates — with or without doors.

It can also be found in miniature, toy form. The proud possession of motor head toddlers from coast to coast, the much smaller plastic iteration runs on batteries and is hardly “street legal”. It’s barely sidewalk legal.

So, just picture the slack-jawed stare of the late Probst and 1940s U.S. Army personnel should they — by some miracle of medical science and/or a major breakthrough in time travel — witness the scene that’s bubbling all over social media, and centered at Texas State University currently.

That is, an industrial engineering student by the name of Tara Monroe, touring around the San Marcos campus in a tiny electric pink Jeep because her license got suspended after she refused a breathalyzer test driving home from a Waka Flocka concert — i.e. a DWI.

A crime and inconvenience that wasn’t about to be solved with the obvious, popular answer — a bike — because, well.

Allow her to explain (via MySA.com):

“Riding a bike around camps sucks,” she admitted. “Like really sucks.”

So — Power Wheels it is. And it is …. powerful.

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Transportation is fun.