Oh, Spirit. You've gone where I'd like to go. Although I've got to confess it looks lonely there.
So, what do you do all day, now that you're stuck in that sand? Do you analyze the rocks and such near you? Stare up at the sky and track dim Phobos and Demois? Or try to pick out that blue speck that is your home planet?
Maybe you're lucky you're on Mars. I'm sure you'll be eroded over time, but in that dry, oxygen-poor atmosphere, you won't corrode as quickly as you would on Earth.
So what would a probe meant to explore Earth have to look like? Much more rugged wheels or spidery legs, especially if you were in the forest or jungle. Not near as compact. Not near as able tor esist the elements or even falling over. You're perfect for your environment, Spirit.
Maybe someday, my grandsons or his grandsons will come to Mars and pay you a visit. I'll insist in my will that they take a picture of me with them, so I can say I, in a way, went along.
And to have your work ethic. Always doing that work, ever-faithful, not complaining that you missed your weekend, even when you realize that weekend is never, ever coming.
You did a good job, Spirit. From a schlub in Idaho who watched your career with great interest: Thanks a lot. I wish I could come bring you home.
Thanks, XKCD.
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