The Z

A few nights ago, my husband's mom gave him his old high school annual- from when both he and I were sophomores at J.J. Pearce.

So of course, I decided to read through the notes left to him by other classmates. The majority of these little letters were written by girls of course, and a huge percentage of them said something like, "You're a real cutie! I can't wait to go for a ride in your Z."

Here are a few unedited outtakes:

"...You better come see me this summer in your big bad Z! I don't have to remind you to party hard this summer because I know you've already started!"

"...You better call me this summer so we can go cruisin' in your 'Z'!"

"...Party hard! I know you will. When can I drive your car?"

"...I still haven't gotten a ride from you in your bad-ass 280Z! I better get one this summer."

Hmm?! Those girls were pretty demanding and I hope none of them ever got a chance to drive his Z, OR party hard with him!!!

Although Fermin and I went to high school together, we didn't really know each other. Not even enough for me to sign his annual. Nor was I privy to the fact that he drove a 280Z.

Perhaps that is why, when we began dating several years later he knew I really loved him for him. By the time I met him, he no longer had a 280Z. He had a un-air-conditioned Scirroco. I never asked to drive it. Instead, he asked me to drive it so he could teach me how to drive a standard. (Which by the way, we tried, but without much success.)

Now I am married to the man- who drives a big bad SUV. And we party hard most days...