On July 27, 1978, in a traffic accident, I met the woman who would become my wife five years later. (No tickets issued, no one hurt! Not important who hit whom! Really, it isn’t! Why does everyone ask that question? It’s not important!*)
Twenty years after that accidental incident, we gathered the family to take photos at the scene, 75th Street and Clyde Drive in Naperville.
Despite my consistently poor wardrobe choices, she’s still with me.
I’m so happy we hit it off.
(Originally posted July 27, 2012; updated 2013 and 2019.)
*At which point my wife typically interjects: “His insurance company paid.”
4 comments:
Happy crashiversary to you both!
I'll admit that my first thought was to wonder who hit who but a much more compelling question leapt to mind just a moment later: How the heck do you ask somebody for a date after exchanging licenses and insurance information?
You call to make sure the insurance company is taking care of things and say you'd like to buy lunch to apologize for the inconvenience. And then, after lunch, you wait for her to call you back. Which she does.
How many cars did you ruin before this ruse finally worked?
Well ... two, I guess. Hers (or her dad's, really) and mine. Really, though, their Buick suffered something like a cracked taillight, and my Rabbit crumpled like an accordion. So maybe just one was ruined.
Post a Comment