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Not long after that, she gathered her things and we got in my truck and headed off. At 9:23 p.m August 30th (ironically our 3 month anniversary), a seventy-six-year-old woman driving a Chrysler Concorde at over 50 mph blew a red light and slammed into the side of my truck, sending Ashley and I spinning through the intersection. Ashley was wearing her seatbelt, and of course like the dumbass I am, I was not. Neither of us was really hurt, but we were rather sore. Everything in front of the windshield on my truck was trashed or gone and parts lay all over the intersection: glass, headlights, paint, my bumper, and lots more. I had to climb out of the window to get out, and I told her to stay in the truck for the time being because I wasn’t sure yet if she was hurt and I didn’t want to risk her getting hit by some idiot flying through the intersection again. If ever you have met a guy that was obsessed with their truck I was that guy. I loved and worshipped my truck and poured every. I asked her if she was hungry, she sad yes, I said then lets eat. I took the bottle of wine out of the bucket of ice and opened it, I poured her a glass and handed it to her and gave her a kiss. I opened the heated container my friend gave me with the food in it. I dished up the Chicken Parmesan he made for us and handed a plate to her. She seemed so surprised and pleased with how things were going for our first Valentines Day together. As we sat and ate and talked, we watched the last sliver of the sun set into the ocean. It was a beautiful sight, but not as much as my girl who was sitting next to me. We finished our meal and I cleaned up everything and just let her relax. When I finished I sat down next to her on the blanket and she laid her head against my chest as I held her in my arms. It was silent here in our spot, except for the crackling of the fire and the pounding of the waves. We were sitting there together for what seemed like hours, we would talk a little about our.
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