The Other Couple in Love

I hardly ever do a #Throwback Thursday post anywhere, but ever since I mentioned My 1979 Mustang Cobra in two separate A to Z Challenge posts this year, I've been thinking about the pictures in mine and Pete's first photo album.  In that album I have the following picture of our two cars under the heading "The Other Couple in Love".

See, my Mustang was so much prettier than the one I found a picture of online for my A to Z posts. We thought it was so cute that each of us owned a sporty, fast hatchback.  That's a very slim, 21 year old Pete standing behind the AMX.  And me on the porch in the photo below.

Pete's AMX was two-wheel drive, even though they made them with 4-wheel drive.  But that never stopped my Petie-Pete from taking it through the worst roads into Bush Lake and back!  He'd just hit the mud hard and fast and slide through the hole! 

Guys in the know will recognize that the mags on this machine are some very rare, very coveted wheels.  I can't begin to count how many people have tried to buy those wheels off of Pete over the years.  There is absolutely no chance of that.  He'd sell me first!  He bought them off of his brother Tommy.  They have been on every single vehicle he has ever owned.  He even adapted them out twice to put on a Volkswagen pipe-frame hoopie!  

Speaking of wheels, you'll notice in the picture at the top, my Mustang has the factory mags on it.  Well, I had seen a really cool look in Hot Rod Magazine I had wanted on my Cobra, but when I went to the big Modica Brothers in Beaumont to get my car tricked out like that, they told me it couldn't be done, shook their heads and laughed at the little lady.

For my birthday, Pete surprised me by picking up my car at work and taking it to the Modica Brothers in Silsbee and having it done!

It took the installation of some hydraulic shocks on the rear, but ta-da!  What a super, good little hubby he was!  A total surprise, this remains one of the most special gifts my hubby has ever given me.

The gang at Modica Brothers was so proud of how it turned out, they put a picture of my car under the glass on the coffee table and it stayed there until they remodeled many years later. 

Hope you enjoyed the trip back to 1984.  

Did you and your spouse have similar tastes in vehicles when you married?

What is one of the most special gifts your spouse ever gave you?

Ever purposefully go muddin' in a car?  Ever go over 90 mph in 3rd gear?




   

Meeting The Family

By and large, Pete's family was big, loud, fun, warm and welcoming. But that didn't stop some of my first meetings with members of it from being odd or funny. I'm going to share a few of those experiences with you here:

Irene

One weekend Pete told me that his Aunt Irene had been wanting him to come, visit and kill some rabbits for her and asked if I'd care to come, too. I accepted. Irene lived down a fairly long dirt road/drive that dead ended on her property. An average size brick home behind a chain link fence. Irene was a widow and a diabetic that lived alone. Like so many in her family, she was warm, welcoming and loud. Ready to laugh and cut up.

She met us at the front walk way. Obviously excited and happy that Pete had put her on his agenda. As she ushered us inside and I stepped into her living room my eyes saw the largest collection of whatnots I have ever seen in my life! Every single space in the room was home to all it could hold. Fascinating! But I shuddered at the horror of having to dust each and every item.

Irene loved a hot, fast game of Yatzee. So in no time at all she had the card table set up and ready for us. We played game after game into the wee hours of the morning and had a blast doing so. She was a cut up. And Pete loved teasing her. I laughed so much that night my sides were sore for days.

At the appropriate time after dark, we paused and Pete took his headlight out and his gun and shined all around and killed for her the rabbits she had been wanting. When he was through hunting he called me out. Seems I had a job....to hold the rabbits while he skinned and cleaned them! (I was a country girl, but my Daddy never hunted or fished anymore by the time I came along. This was all new to me.) So after being a little grossed out and sustaining a few flea bites, I had been indoctrinated in the art of rabbit cleaning. For any city slickers, the flea bites were because the rabbits always have fleas, and the fleas go to searching for a new host not long after the one they are on is dead.

Irene was tickled and delighted. She could cook the fried and smothered in gravy rabbit she had been craving and had some for her freezer. We became friends and in the first few years after our marriage, I sometimes run errands or did shopping for her. Sadly, her heart disease took her from us before Bubba was born.

Hannon Rufus

One evening, Pete picked me up and told me they were having a party at his brother Benny's and that was our destination. Once again, down another long dirt road/drive in Caneyhead to emerge in a clearing with a trailer house and a host of folks outside under a large oak tree.

We pulled in, in Pete's little red AMX with Pete driving and me in the passenger seat. Perhaps I just wasn't thinking, but I went ahead and opened my own car door and stepped out. Immediately to see a small framed man, shirt half tucked in and half out, a two day stubble on his face, wobbling and swaying, walking my way with his arms outstretched and hollering "Hey, there darlin', give ol' Hannon a hug!" I had no idea who "ol' Hannon" was, but I was sure of one thing....I didn't want him near me or on me. I called out, "Pete! Pete, come get this person away from me!" Everyone under the oak was laughing, and even Pete when he came to my side was chuckling at me. He held out a hand and stopped Hannon a couple of feet short of me. He told him to slow down, hold on. She's new here. She's not used to this. Hannon staggered a little and quizzically looked at Pete asking what was wrong, he just wanted a little hug and a kiss. Pete put his arm around Hannon and led him away from me, explaining further that he had to let me get to know him first.

That was my first encounter with Pete's 1st cousin, Hannon Rufus. Yes, when he drank, he became a very lovable, clumsy drunk. But I later discovered a very genuinely warm and kind man when he was sober. He was a very hardworking, skilled hand. And everyone around would come to him to get their hogs scraped. It wasn't long before I would happily give ol' Hannon a little hug if he asked. Sadly, he's no longer with us either. Bubba got to know him, but Hannah was too small when we lost him to really remember him.

Darlene

For many years there was an old cafe in town called the Bluebonnet Cafe. One morning after an especially late night, were were hungry and Pete suggested the Bluebonnet for a good breakfast. He was hungry for cream gravy and biscuits.

We went in and sat down. A perky, blonde waitress came over and gave us menu's and was delighted to see Pete. She had to hug him, teased him about finally coming by to see her. He asked for his cream gravy and biscuits. Probably too late for that, she told him. But he went on about how surely for him she could find some. Wink, smile, wink. She said how for him, she'd make it herself if she had to.

I didn't say much, didn't ask anything. Didn't know what to think. Thought it best to just see exactly what went down. Our food was served and it was good. We ate and she came back and forth checking on us and cutting up with Pete. When we were about to leave, Pete pulled out the money for our meal and an extra $20 for a tip, explaining he knew she could use it.

We were on our way out, and she come up and hugged him and said, "Thank you Bubba!"

This was my first encounter with Pete's baby sister, Darlene.

Janie

One weekend, Pete said we were going to go stay with his 2nd cousins, Punk and Janie at their camp at Bush Lake. I packed for the weekend, complete with all my makeup and contact lens equipment. About halfway into the camp it was like we fell off the civilized world. No real road, just a trail/road through the woods that reeked of stagnate mud. Only someone experienced in driving in these conditions stood a chance of getting through without a 4-wheel drive. We arrived to find a large rambling camphouse that was covered in old newspaper tin sheets! You could still read the old stories and advertisements! No electricity. No running water. An old hand pump on a well outside. A number 3 washtub at the back door of the camp was the only hot bath to be had. Or in the summer you could take a bar of Ivory down to the lake. There were beds galore! Old beds in three rooms....approximately 7 or 8. And many a night in deer season or the middle of summer, every bed was full. Chickens free ranging all around the surrounding woods. A small butane icebox in the kitchen and two old buckets kept full of water with a ladle sitting on a small table beside the stove. Large flaps all around the house that could be raised in warm weather. In the cold they were down and a big old wood stove in the main room was kept stoked and hot.

Janie was short, round and pleasant. She had no problem handing you a bowl of potatoes and telling you to get them peeled and cut up, or starting a bowl of fried cornbread mixings and telling you to finish it and get it on the stove. She had a habit of dipping snuff, which was my first experience seeing a woman use any type of tobacco other than an cigarette. She loved camping and hunting. Her and Punk would play 42 at a drop of a hat, for hours on end and many came just to play with them. But her love above all loves was white perch fishing.

Now every moment when Pete was not by my side Janie was talking about Pete or feeling me out about what I thought of him, how I felt. But the next day, after a big breakfast of pancakes she and her grown and married daughter, Sis, took me out in the boat for some perch fishing. Or at least that was their cover. This was actually a two and half hour presentation on the virtues of and the possibilities that could be Pete married to a good woman. Apparently, Janie had sized me up and thought me an acceptable candidate. And since Pete stayed with them most of the time in that period, she apparently had an inside track, probably from observance of him on how Pete felt and the possibilities between us. Janie had that way of watching folks and knowing almost more about them then they did themselves.

To sum it up, this weekend was totally different than anything I had ever experienced before on many levels. But I came to love Bush Lake, Punk & Janie, and so many of our best times and warmest memories center around them and that place. Janie turned out to be one of my favorite people in Pete's family, a good friend and a joy to be around. We got up to plenty of adventures and a little mischief over the years.

The beloved old camphouse burned down one year. A new one was built in it's place, but nice as it was, it lacked the charm and fun of that old original. We lost Janie in a car wreck. Lost Punk a few years later. All is gone. But none will ever be forgotten.

Barbie meets Pete

I decided to post some of "our" stories here on Life & Faith. In part, because I love sharing them, telling them. But largely motivated to save these stories for my children. So please come along with me as we go back to Dec. 31, 1983:

This December was on of the coldest I can remember. It was 17 degrees for a high on Christmas day! Very unusual for us. And I was 23 years old. I had lost my mom less than a year before and was still living in the our home with my stepfather, Polk, as we both tried to chart out what came next. Between work and my running the roads I was actually seldom there.

On New Year's Eve of 1983 I was fed up with men. You find one treats you right, and seemed "the right feeling" never developed. Find one with the right feeling and sooner or later they let you down. Coming out of a nearly year long relationship that had gone south for no explainable reason, I had made up my mind to simply do what I pleased, go out with whomever I wanted to just for their company. New rules to play by: don't phone them, don't go to them, don't meet them, don't spend a dime of my money on them. They could do it all or nothing. I wouldn't be used, played, toyed with any more.

So on this particular evening I was at home getting dressed up to go out dancing for New Year's Eve. My best friend (who was already married), Mary Lou, phoned me up to say "come out here with us for New Year's. Glen and Connie are playing." "No, I think I'm going somewhere else." "Oh, come on" she insisted ~she was very good at insisting ;o)~"Paul is gonna be there with his fiance and Ronnie says you have to be there." "Okay, I'll come out there, but I'm not promising I'll stay there."

So I finished dressing, pulled on my cowboy boots and got a good coat and left the house. I walked into the club to find the others already there. I ordered a drink and sat down with them. It wasn't extremely pleasant for me; hearing and seeing Glen and Connie brought back nostalgic memories of the past year. I half hoped, half dreaded Rocky might walk in the door. I wanted to bolt and run. Go somewhere else, anywhere else. But each time I was about to make my excuses and cut out, someone would ask me to dance or engage me in conversation and I'd end up staying on.

It wasn't long before us girls had to excuse ourselves to the ladies room. Being single, my eyes were perusing the men I saw along the way. Sloppy, ugly, obviously taken, drunk, old so and so....then I spy a tall, slender frame bent from the waist over the pool table. His hair looked like spun gold, shining under the Bud light hanging above the table. His jeans fit his rear just right. I nudged Mary Lou in the side and said, "Oh, look at that one! The only good looking guy in here." Mary Lou said, "What? Where?" Oh, hell, she was too married to notice. Coming back by the pool table upon exit of the ladies room, I tried to catch his eye, but seemed to fail. Oh, well, back into the dark recesses of our table.

Later on, a song started, Percy Sledge I think, and Mary Lou was obviously going to be mad at Ronnie if he didn't make it back to dance with her. So I went to warn him to high tail it to the dance floor. I walked up to find him talking to the handsome young man I had noticed over the pool table. Forever full of himself, Ronnie made some crack. And then the handsome young stranger leaned in between us, tapped the side of his cheek with a long slender finger and said, "give me a little kiss, right here." I pulled back a little and took in his face. It was kind, cheerful and full of mischief. His right brow was slightly cocked. Why not? So I leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. It seems Ronnie made some quick introductions. But suffice it to say, at some point he ended up over at our table. After Mary Lou and stomped his foot repeatedly, he had asked me to dance to a slow song. And he got up once again to dance to "Auld Lang Syne" as the clock struck midnight. As the lights came up and "Turn out the Lights, the Party's Over" started blaring from the jukebox he asked about us doing more tonight. I told him I was going home. Told him where I lived and told him he could come over and watch TV if he wanted to. He assured me he'd be there. I wasn't counting on it.

I walked out to my Mustang and cranked up, started getting ready to leave. Letting some cars pull out and get away from me. Noticed in the rear view mirror that my handsome young man was packing about 5 girls into an AMX. Well, he obviously got a better deal! So much for that. And I pulled out and headed home. I was surprised to find my stepfather had not returned from a family party he had gone to. Being an old night owl, I suppose. I walked through the cold house. Lit a couple of heaters. Peed. Was kicking my boots off when I heard a car in the drive and in just a second, there was a knock on the door. I turn on the porch light and opened the door to see HIM standing there! Wow. I didn't think you were coming, it looked like you were busy. He claimed the women I had seen climbing into his car, were his three sisters and a couple of their friends he had to take home before he came over. We settled down on the couch. Watched TV. Talked. He had given me three options of names I could call him, and I never could settle on one. Polk finally came home. I made introductions. Then Polk headed for bed. We talked some more. Cuddled and kissed a little, as much from the cold as anything. Not long after Pete said he'd better head off to home, that he had to work the next day. That he was a pumper and had to check the wells every single day. I urged him to settle down on the couch instead, due to the late hour, the 15 mile drive and the whole New Year's and alcohol thing.

(It was several months later when I heard the story from his sisters about that night after the club closed. They said he herded them into the car like cattle. And literally drove like a bat out of hell, leaving them scared senseless, to get them where they were staying that night. Claimed he fairly threw them out of the car when they got there, barely slowing to a roll. It was a good 30 mile round trip from the club, to there, and back down to my house. He made it in about 10 minutes.)