A week from his planned road trip to Wichita, Kansas, Wilson tells me Grandad wouldn't be able to attend a friend's wedding with him. Without much convincing, I agreed to be his date. After all, I’d be in the car with the love of my life and there would be Whataburger on the way. The drive up wasn’t too bad, the drive back wasn’t as smooth. You see, I’ve always said I wanted to learn how to drive stick shift. And Wilson, being the honest man he is, keeps people to their intentions. Since Kansas is flat, the drive back was “the best time to try”. So after finally realizing I had to also use my left foot to drive, I was able to get us going. Then comes Memphis. Wilson had taken over to go through back roads in Missouri but now that we were going to get back on the highway on a Sunday, we thought it’d be a pretty easy drive for me. Incorrect. After seeing “3 Left Lanes Closed” I knew I was in trouble. We found ourselves in bumper-to-bumper traffic. I repeatedly stalled out in the middle of the highway. Any other person would have told me to get out of the driver’s seat after the first stall out. However, Wilson patiently sat there, unembarrassed. He recognized my determination to get through this challenge and kept calmly coaching me, encouraging me to keep trying. We eventually got off the highway and to 78 which had stop lights and I stalled out at every single one. Even then, Wilson never stopped rooting for me. When I was panicked and flustered, he never got frustrated or impatient. When people started going around me while I was stuck, he was ready to jump out into MOVING TRAFFIC just so I had a chance to do well. He remained confident in me when I lost all confidence in myself. He reminded me that there is always time to succeed. He makes it easy to try and keep trying. We eventually coast to a gas station and I get up and hug him. I knew he was it. My best friend, my biggest cheerleader. The one I wanted to try for, forever.

Wichita and Atlanta are separated by +900 mi. and about 16 hours of driving. Dana and I, being the adventurous (recklessly frugal) couple that we are, decided that driving there sounded great. Even better, we'd break it up over two days going there and then long-haul the way back to Georgia in one. Easy enough, right? The way there was easy, we threw on "The Martian" audiobook, the one thing Dana and I disagree on more than almond flavoring, and powered through with only a three-hour rest stop car nap. The way back can be described as 'challenging'. For those of you who haven't visited America's breadbasket, Kansas is flat...really flat...so we took it as a great place to let Dana learn to drive manual. It's pretty simple on flat ground with no stops: just over-rev the engine, panic while releasing the clutch, lurch forward, (not stall) and slowly putter up to speed. After a while, she got the hang of it. We switched off going through Missouri, before D took over again just outside Memphis. Later, in the middle of the highway, while she was fighting back tears of frustration and beads of sweat from the summer heat, I knew she was the one I wanted to be with forever. She refused to let me take over because she was determined to get us off the road. After the third threat on my life in two minutes, I smiled and did the only thing I could: spoke calmly and walked through the steps. Dana didn't give up when we hit bumper-to-bumper traffic. She didn't quit when we stalled (multiple times) at each light on 78. D pushed herself to succeed where others might have given up. When things get hard or aren't easy/fun anymore, she does the difficult thing: she tries. She drove for another 20 miles before finally coasting-- we weren't about to go through 1st gear again --to a gas station where I went in to pay for gas. When I came back, she just hugged me and I knew. I knew then that I'd never find a better friend, better cheerleader, better teammate or better wife.