How I Stole a Man’s Car and He Wound Up Marrying Me

In college, most guys have little economy cars, if any.  Not the most handsome man in all of Zeta Beta Tau fraternity.  Nope.  He drove an enormous family station wagon.  It screamed stability, future children, a house in the suburbs.  To me, at least.  To his fraternity brothers, it was dubbed The Party Wagon, and allowed them to cram in and go to the “$2.50 per carload” drive in theater.

When I started dating this guy, we never went anywhere on a single date.  The more the merrier was his motto.  First date was: “Hey guys, she said yes to going dancing at Ruby Begonia’s Roadhouse.  Hop in.”  The Party Wagon held nine people and we were always full.  Our second date was, “Hey guys, we’re going roller skating, hop in.” Our third date was up the coast at a sand dune beach and you can bet we were full again.  Out to Carrow’s restaurant for a late night sundae?  Table for nine, please.  My sorority sisters enjoyed coming along too.

Maybe he like the fact that I had to scoot over and sit squished beside him?

The only time there seemed to be less than nine people in his car was when I borrowed it on Sunday mornings to go to church while he slept in.  He loaned me his spare key, and I appreciated suddenly having wheels.

So all is going swimmingly in my new relationship.  Lots of ZBTs began hanging out with my sorority sisters too.  But then one of the ZBTs got the bright idea that our Chi Omega crest needed to be absconded with.  I have no idea why we kept our crest by the oft-unlocked back door.  It was a huge thing, probably 3 feet wide and 6 feet high.  You can imagine in which vehicle they spirited it away, probably with nine ZBT’s laughing their butts off.

The Chi Omegas were pink about it.  Vows of revenge.  Scouting teams were sent to storm the ZBT complex and certain other fraternities to find the thing.  I suspected it wasn’t in the ZBT house at all.  Sure enough.  Smack in front of the ZBT complex, parked on the street, the smug Party Wagon sat brooding over her contraband, a thin blanket thrown over a 3 X 6 object in the back.

I stuck my hands in my pockets and pondered my revenge, when behold!  The spare key!  I calmly started The Party Wagon and drove it to the Chi O house, we unloaded the crest, then I drove it back and parked it in the exact spot.  The ZBT’s were nowhere to be found.  Probably studying, they averred later.

No one even realized The Party Wagon had been on a turncoat mission until the next day, when they spied the limp blanket and realized the crest was no longer there.  Cries of “horse thief” and “call the police” ensued.  They were met with “breaking and entering” “burglary” from the Chi O’s.

“You stole my car!” exclaimed my Handsome Friend.

“Nonsense,” I replied.  “Your car is sitting right where you left it.  I did however, take back what WAS stolen.”

“You stole my car!” he repeated.

“Only temporarily,” I admitted.

Seven months after I met him, the handsome Party Wagon’s owner proposed.  Guess his heart was in the glove compartment and I stole that too.

Unlike the Party Wagon, I will never give it back.