My husband often thought I was an air-head. Especially on the day before April Fool's Day, 1977. We were going to buy a second car. I wanted a family car, he wanted an El Camino.
That day, the car dealer we were working with told him to take home the El Camino for the night, see how he liked it. He did, and he parked it out front. I liked the El Camino, too, but it didn't suit our family of seven (and often ten). I didn't say anymore about it as he fiddled with this and that, listen to the radio and engine, checked under the hood, etc.
But when the sun began to set, I started getting really edgy. I told him to pull the El Camino into the driveway. He brushed me off by saying it would be fine. I asked him several times, receiving the same response.
For some reason, I felt it was vital to move that vehicle. Finally I got the keys and moved it myself.
Everything else was fine for the rest of the night, but, when I woke up the next morning, the entire neighborhood looked like a war zone. Shrubs, metal, broken glass, flowers, and mail everywhere.
I got my husband up, but he thought it was a April Fool's Day joke. It wasn't.
We learned later that a drunk driver had zig-zagged down our street, taking out garage doors, car doors, flower beds, hedges, and so forth. The DD's car had gone over the curb where the El Camino had sat the evening before, then right behind where it was in the driveway. The driver missed the El Camino, but took out our fence, the neighbor's lawn, and their mailbox, and finally landed in their own driveway.
My husband never questioned me again when I became insistent about something that didn't seem important to him.
That day, the car dealer we were working with told him to take home the El Camino for the night, see how he liked it. He did, and he parked it out front. I liked the El Camino, too, but it didn't suit our family of seven (and often ten). I didn't say anymore about it as he fiddled with this and that, listen to the radio and engine, checked under the hood, etc.
But when the sun began to set, I started getting really edgy. I told him to pull the El Camino into the driveway. He brushed me off by saying it would be fine. I asked him several times, receiving the same response.
For some reason, I felt it was vital to move that vehicle. Finally I got the keys and moved it myself.
Everything else was fine for the rest of the night, but, when I woke up the next morning, the entire neighborhood looked like a war zone. Shrubs, metal, broken glass, flowers, and mail everywhere.
I got my husband up, but he thought it was a April Fool's Day joke. It wasn't.
We learned later that a drunk driver had zig-zagged down our street, taking out garage doors, car doors, flower beds, hedges, and so forth. The DD's car had gone over the curb where the El Camino had sat the evening before, then right behind where it was in the driveway. The driver missed the El Camino, but took out our fence, the neighbor's lawn, and their mailbox, and finally landed in their own driveway.
My husband never questioned me again when I became insistent about something that didn't seem important to him.