Or a busted up red GMC. This isn’t parent related, though I guess you could say it is kid related. Depends on what you deem a kid. See, I was maybe twenty years old, and the girl I was dating constantly drove me insane. I won’t go into the entirety that was that Hell, but needless to say we had another argument. Again. Another one. Or pretty much the same one.
We fought about three things. Kids, the apartment, and work/school. They all tied into one big ball of woe. It was like a carousel of self inflicted misery. Anyway, the argument popped on campus, again, and we had driven separately, so I left. On the big “E”. I managed to coast into a drug store’s parking lot. No gas, no cash. Cell phones existed (by cracky), but that was also lacking among my possessions. I didn’t even have loose change for the payphone (yes, those existed, too).
Collect calls back to the apartment. No answer. We did just have the fight. I allowed for huffiness on Heather’s part, and sat in the July heat. I tried again. And again. And finally hit a point where it wasn’t just Heather having a tiff, but something else.
I dialed Cindy’s next. Heather had gone over there seeing as how I never made it back to the apartment. Cindy rolled up in her big red GMC SUV with a small gas can. Enough to get me going again.
And she’s been there ever since. Through the break-up with nutbag Heather. Dating, engagement, marriage, and now three children. It’s nice, to put it simply. And mildly. But that will have to do.