After The Big Story ~ Scenes from a Marriage

She said yes. We've covered that ground before. I'll never write 5,800 words while telling any one story again. But there are plenty of stories to tell. Marriage is full of stories. This is the first in an occasional series exploring the lighter, darker and goofy sides of marriage.

There were a few logistical hurdles for Amy and I to deal with after we got engaged October 15, 2004. For starters, she lived in Duluth, MN (current temperature: 42), I lived in Salt Lake City. We talked about what kind of wedding we wanted and when we wanted it.

But there was one conversation of most importance: Where are we going to live? I had a career that I was very much enjoying and really liked the weather in Salt Lake. She had never lived outside of the state of Minnesota. I talked her into Utah, but she didn't need much. It was an adventure and we had each other, so who cares where we live?

As it turned out, the move from Minnesota was adventure enough. It was a roadtrip, and when I think roadtrip, I think Matt Whaley. He's driven in a moving truck from Minnesota to Utah twice and once from Utah to Maine. But one of those trips wasn't supposed to be in a moving truck at all.

The weirdest restaurant/hotel/gas station in America.

The plan was for Matt to drive his Dodge 3500 diesel pickup truck to Utah with all of Amy's precious belongings in a trailer. They made it from North Branch to Owatonna, Minnesota. That's 108 miles. That's when his rear pinion seal blew out — or, at least, that's when it was detected.

They took it to a dealer to get it worked on. No problem. Fixed in a jiffy. Seven hours later, a very tense Matt drove a trying-to-relax Amy out of Owatonna. They were behind schedule but could still make it to Utah at a reasonable time the following day, provided nothing else went wrong.

Driving south on Interstate 35, about 10 miles north of Des Moines, Matt's truck lurched to a stop. No warning, no weird noises. The engine just went silent. They got a tow to a Dodge dealer in Des Moines and racked up for the night.

The following morning they got more bad news: The diesel mechanic doesn't work Saturdays, so they were out of luck. That was the final straw. In Salt Lake, I went online and rented a 10-foot moving truck for Amy to pick up in Des Moines. I also bought a one-way return ticket for Matt and Plan B was put into action.

Duke, in his less spry days.

Plan B also included Duke and I driving east on Interstate 80 across the state of Wyoming to meet Matt and Amy as they headed west on Interstate 80. After a reunion, Duke decided it would be a great idea to chase an antelope for a half mile or so. Newsflash: Antelopes are quite fast.

We finally made it back to Salt Lake at 1:30 a.m. We passed out, woke up, moved Amy's things in and went to lunch before Matt had to catch his afternoon flight home. As we sat there eating, I said to Matt, "There's a twist coming to this story. There's just been too much going on. There's got to be more."

The next day, the phone rang. It was Matt. "I've got your twist," he said. "When the truck broke down in Des Moines, the gas gauge said there was a quarter of a tank of gas left. The gas gauge was wrong. It was empty. We ran out of gas."

Of course.