I Gambled on a Date and a Marriage Happened

Life is a wild ride but we enjoy the journey

After tournaments, my debate partner and I would change from our blazers and skirts and experience life as teenagers should — dragging main. (If anyone shares this with my children, I will deny it!) Char and I would drive around the streets of Boise, Idaho circling the city. Friends (which included everyone present because nobody was a stranger) greeted us with honks and a flash of their lights. When we stopped in a parking lot, someone always had a beer or a cigarette to share, sometimes both, and then we drove around some more.

In May of 1980, (my senior year) we pulled up next to a 1969 Camaro painted midnight black with silver metal flakes that winked at me in the moonlight. Needless to say, I loved that car (After I got to know the driver, I discovered he wasn’t too bad either.) Char hit it off with the passenger, so they climbed into the backseat and got acquainted.

Being shy and more reserved, I sat in the front seat and talked to the driver. At the bewitching hour when we knew our chariot would turn into a pumpkin (or when our parents threatened restrictions), we agreed our joyride needed to end. To my surprise and enthusiasm Randy asked for my phone number. To my disappointment, when he opened his glove compartment several papers with female names and phone numbers fell at my feet. (Immediately creating doubts that he would ever call and uncertainties if I wanted him to.)

I gambled by giving him my phone number and won a date

On our first date, he planned to visit Humpin’ Hannah’s, a downtown bar — until I shared my age. (I was 18; he was an older man of 21.) While we discussed alternative plans, we cruised the strip. I do not know if he consciously protected me or his coveted Camaro, but when we entered an intersection, he glimpsed an oncoming car and pressed the gas pedal which propelled us forward enough that the car missed slamming into my door and hit the back quarter panel. We spun around and stalled under the stoplight. A somber mood overwhelmed our date, and I remember little of the remainder of the night.

I gambled by accepting a second date and survived

Without enough evidence to make an informed decision about our compatibility, we agreed to try again. Apparently, the earlier accident (refer to first date) caused more damage than thought because smoke billowed from the trunk. (Yes, we cruised main street again.) We quickly pulled to a side street on the strip to investigate and discovered a pinched wire from the previous accident had shorted — another somber date.

I gambled on a third date and met a police officer

Now I realize driving a Camaro draws attention, a target rests on the hood of the car. The friends who were with us the night we met joined us on this date. We spent a lovely evening at dinner and a movie. As we drove, to drop off our friends at the end of the evening, red and blue lights illuminated the back window. Since Randy had been drinking, we exchanged places (I climbed over him as he slid underneath) so I sat in the driver’s seat when the policeman approached.

The officer informed us someone had stolen a golf cart and caused destruction to the greens. As it was one PM and we drove adjacent to the golf course, he asked to examine our shoes explaining they were attempting to match a pattern obtained from the bottom of the perpetrator’s soles. (Our age and the car probably influenced his decision to pull us over.) When ours did not match, the night ended with another story for the books.

I gambled on a trip and learned the procedures to bail someone out of jail

After the first few dates, we decided to challenge fate and continued to see each other. Several months into the relationship Randy’s car club sponsored a rally in Sun Valley, Idaho. After many promises to my parents, they granted permission since Randy’s sister accompanied us as a chaperone.

The delightful weekend ended without any dents, fires, or arrests — until we drove home.

As Randy drove, I relaxed in the passenger’s seat. We both dressed in shorts and flip flops because a 1969 Camaro offers no air conditioning and August is a scorcher in Idaho. I wore a halter top and he had removed his shirt to combat the heat. When we drove through the small town of Hailey, Randy pointed out a Volkswagen, Rabbit with a police light randomly stuck on top driven by a man wearing a white cowboy hat. We both laughed. (Come on, visualize the picture and you will laugh too.)

Apparently, the cop noticed our pleasure at his expense and didn’t appreciate our sense of humor. He proceeded to follow us through town with his radar monitoring our speed. Inside our car, the fuzz detector as we affectionately named it, blared at high decimals without pause. We turned it off about the time the red and blue lights signaled us to pull to the side of the road.

Long story short, he processed Randy’s license and reported it was suspended, hand cuffed him, and drove him to jail — shirtless. I followed cautiously driving the precious Camaro as I quickly learned how to maneuver a stick shift. (Some grinding and a stall did occur.) At the police station, we were granted a few moments to discuss the situation (Through the bars with Randy standing in flip flops, and shorts). We agreed I should return to Sun Valley to seek out assistance from somebody we knew since neither of us had money or a charge card.

I am proud to say my composure remained calm until I walked into the hotel room of some friends; then tears shook my body as I explained the situation. Several couples pooled enough money to post bail. I returned to the jail, posted bail, and drove (Grinding gears in the dark) down the windy road home after calling my father and explaining our situation. (That is a story for another time.)

To clear the name of my loved one, I will add a side note that a lawyer welcomed our case at no cost because Randy held a valid license. (Well, he didn’t hold it currently because they confiscated!) The county returned the bail money and the problem disappeared.

We gambled and won a 38-year union (We are still going strong)

Following a few dates ended without casualties, we agreed we worked together. No fancy proposal occurred just an understanding that we enjoyed life more when we both rode in the same car. On September 19, 1981 we married, and our Camaro carried us away to a life of adventure.