Marriage is like Shifting Gears…Together

I never learned to drive a stick shift but my husband sure can. He used to pick me up for school in his white 1965 GTO.  We were high school sweethearts, and I loved watching him drive that car. He knew the exact second to push the clutch and shift gears.

Last week, we were headed to the YMCA in his old truck. While he drove, I watched him shift gears, still fascinated. “Will you show me how again?” He’d tried to teach me when we were teenagers.

I put my hand on his.

“Okay, listen for the engine to whine. Hear it? Now go to second.”

“I forgot. Where’s second?”

“Remember the H?” He took his hand off the shifter. “You can do it.”

“Ahh! No I can’t. I don’t know which–”

“Sure you can.” He grinned at me.

He thinks I can. Maybe I can.

My heart kicked into high gear when I found second. “I did it!” And then I shifted into neutral by mistake.

“No big deal.” He put his hand on mine and slipped it into third. “You got it.”

“Thank you,” I said staring at his right hand, remembering.

 My husband knows cars, but he knows me even better.

“You’re too quiet,” he said. “What are you thinking?”

“Just…well, just that I’m grateful.”

“For what?”

Filled with emotion, I didn’t dare look at him. “You’ve turned a lot of wrenches so I can write. Thank you.”

He nodded.

I’ve almost finished the novel I’ve been writing. “You never doubted I could do it, did you?”

“Of course not.”

I squeezed his hand one, two, three times.

He squeezed back four times. I love you too.

 

Love,

Julie