Don’t Judge Him by His Car

The story of us began where I worked, in customer service. He frequented there often and he was always groomed and smelling nice. He had to work downtown somewhere, he looked so professional.

He would be the topic of conversation as I would comment on his dress and the scent that lingered after he left. 

“I think he likes you,” they would say. “Nope, he’s not my type,” I would respond, “but he sure smells nice.” 

One day I finally agreed to go out with him. Boy, was I surprised when he showed up in a car older than mine with no color to it — maybe it was faded gray —all I remember is the crack in the windshield. OK, no problem, it’s just a ride, just a means of transportation. Our plan was to have an afternoon lunch in Virginia, which was an hour’s ride. 

“How can I ride an hour with him … the car has no console, where is the radio?” I thought. “Let’s just eat somewhere local, like right down the road or something,” I suggested, and we did. 

I ended up married to this handsome and loving guy — he often jokes that he knew he had me when I went on our first date with him in his old beat-up car with no paint on it, a cracked windshield and no radio console. Thanks coworkers, you know who you are. It was the best decision I ever made.

Deborah Harris, Elizabeth City, a member of Albemarle EMC