I don’t know if I had really resisted being married so much first time or even second time because
of my broken heart, hearts,. I just did, and then of course there was the proof it wasn’t all up to me.
There was good times. I’ll leave it phrased like that.
“You’re the prettiest baggage handler I’ve ever seen.” Is the first thing I said to Linda. Then we got
married.
She had a nice house of the suburban sort and I had an Econoline van by then.
The Econoline was a very rusted hulk of a rattling van dream car of any American hippie
who didn’t have a volkswagen bus. So I had one.
Later I had a Super Beetle in my life which people can define by their car collection if they want.
Rich people have rich people cars and poor people have poor people cars.
Rich people can have poor people cars and rich people cars.

We went out on a date, Linda and I and I wasn’t much thinking we were for each other but we kissed.
We kissed and that worked out well and so then thee was good sex and I kept drinking some sort of whiskey I’ll
remember the name of any second now.

The we were married and I was hiding behind flowers in the living room while my mother-in-law was
talking about something. It was frightening. Horrible scary. Something about insurance.