Sitting in the summer house with friends yesterday, we told stories. I shared this tale of a misadventure many years ago…
I heard the engine roar as my husband waited for me in his new purchase, a 1977 Corvette. As I slid into the car, I grabbed onto the seat belt and strapped it firmly across my hips. Making a road hugging turn, we headed to a wedding.
When we arrived at the church, I pushed the release button on the seat belt; but it held secure. Then my husband leaned over and pushed the button, grabbing onto the belt and jerking it.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “I’m coming around.”
Opening the door, my husband knelt on the body frame and pulled with all his strength but to no avail.
“Listen, honey,” my husband said as he opened the T-top. “Maybe you can squeeze out of the belt, and I can climb on the roof and lift you out.”
“I’ll try,” I said feebly.
I pushed on the floorboards with my black high heels and willed my body upward. But the belt dug deeper into my flesh and would not let me go.
I began to panic. In a few minutes the bride would be walking down the aisle.
My husband lost his patience and began tugging with all his might. If the belt wouldn’t release, then he’d rip it right out. But it only rubbed and burned its pattern into my skin.
And that’s when I began to hyperventilate. I leaned out the car door as far as I could, gasping for air.
“Isn’t there a scissors or knife in the trunk?” I panted.
“Corvettes don’t have trunks,” he said, pacing up and down the sidewalk.
“Well maybe you could knock on a door and ask for something to cut me out of this thing,” I shrieked.
Just then a carpet company van came down the street.
Without thinking, my husband ran after it, hailing the driver. He pulled over and rolled down the window, and my husband blurted out, “I need a knife for my wife.”
Calming down, my husband began to explain…
“Don’t cut my dress!” I wailed, when my husband returned and sliced the belt with the borrowed carpet knife.
I was free.
Although we were very late, we saw that the bride was still standing by the church door.
Sitting in the pew, I read the wedding invitation: “Two lives, two hearts joined in friendship, united forever in love.”
“Just like us,” I thought to myself. “And I’m also joined to his car.”