It took us about five minutes to realize that those places didn’t exist, especially in rural Iowa.

We did manage to see the glow of a repair garage about 20 minutes down the highway.  It was one of those filling stations that you see in movie from the 50s – small shop on one side equipped with harsh fluorescent lighting and large expanse of glass that slopes out toward the pumps to eliminate the glare from headlights, and a couple of service bays on the other, dark and empty after a long day of repairing the vehicles of normal, non tire-blowing-in-the-middle-of-the-night people.

The lights of the little shop were on and as we got closer, we saw that someone was inside.  I stopped and we got out together.

The man inside was a heavy set and middle aged with a spotted and greasy mechanic’s shirt named Stanley who after listening to my case just stared at me in a “you do know that it is late…on a Sunday” kind of way.  I waited for his reply in an uncomfortable silence and did what I usually do in these types of situations, I started backing out and saying things like “oh, that’s okay, I’m sure the next town is just down the road…what? 75 miles down?  Yea, well, I’m sure they will have more tires and if not, maybe some spare rubber that they can fashion into a belt like strap and attach it to my wheel.  If that doesn’t work, I’ll just hold the old tire onto the axle until we get to Kansas.  No problem, um, see ya.”

We were almost out the door when he called back into the garage.  “Hey John, come here a sec.”  John was a young kid, probably no more than 17 who came out and talked the situation over with Stanley.  John went away and the man told us that he had gone into the back to see if they had a tiny tire to fit my car.  He told us that they usually don’t have tires that small.  Yes, this is farm country.  They most likely didn’t know that cars this small, that were also street legal, existed.

John came back about five minutes later with a tire or at least it had the appearance of a tire.  It was completely bald and looked as if it had just been pulled off the back of a rusted out trailer that had been sitting in a overgrown alley.  He told us that this is the only thing they had and if they could get it on the wheel, we could probably make it to Kansas.  But if they did, and I made it home, I should get a proper tire as soon as I could.

Hmmm.  Nothing too concerning in those statements…apart from the “if I can get it on” and “probably make it to Kansas.”  I looked at April for a second.  She really was pretty, even in harsh fluorescent but she wasn’t giving me any help.  I looked back at the man and said “do it.”

They pulled the car in and manged to get the tire on.  It was noticeably smaller than the other tires but I was happy to have something that would, in theory, get us home.  John handed us back the keys once we decided on a price which I was sure would be “how much you got?” but actually ended up being $20.  We said a little prayer, got in the car and headed on home.

The ride for the next four hours was an interesting one.  I don’t remember the conversations we had, but I do remember driving through the highways of northern Missouri and Kansas City and feeling the car lurch back and forth every time the weight of the car would shift from the three good tires to the trailer tire.  April was asleep for most of this leg of our journey,  I was quite nervous that we may careen into the ditch at any moment, so I kept my fears to myself and set my mind on home.

We pulled into Lawrence sometime between late Sunday and early Monday a little rattled and exhausted but alive and pleased to have made it back.

—

The next few weeks were a mix of fantasy and reality.  I was with April as much as I could manage and therefore barely getting by in Physics and April was consistently late for Drawing I and often skipped that class to get her other classwork done – the classwork that she ignored while we spent every waking moment together.

We did so much hanging out that even our professors began to associate us as a couple.  Our Drawing I Professor, Mr. G,  would often come up to me when April would be late or skipping and would ask “Where is your partner in crime?”  I would grin and say something witty and he would mumble something under his breath and walk away.  I told April about these meetings and in typical April fashion, she would laugh and shun authority.

It finally hit home when Mr. G, after seeing April actually show up to class, presented her with an envelope.  It had a picture in it that was taken by a campus newspaper photographer when he saw April and me skipping class to enjoy some warm weather.  The class that we happened to be skipping was, yep, Drawing I.  Our professor was the first one who gave us a copy of the picture.  You can read about April’s impression of that moment in her birthday saga story here.

The highlight of those weeks between the end of spring break and the end of the semester happened one night as we were sitting in her 1987 Ford Thunderbird in the parking lot of my dorm. We had gone to Arby’s to grab some food because we were constantly starving, or at lease I was starving.  Our conversation was fun and when some of the laughter died down I looked at April and said “I’m falling in love with you.”  She responded with a sweet smile and a kiss.

Life was good.

—

My Dad was driving up to pick me up on the last day of our dorm’s end of the semester “move out week”.  I had spent the last few days after finals packing up my stuff, cleaning, hanging out with April, and removing a large pencil drawn sketch my previous roommate had left on the north wall of my room. A sketch done as a tribute to Jayhawkdom that my Residence Hall Director did not fully appreciate.

Dad showed up around noon and told me that we had to be back in St. Louis by 7p so we had to get on the road by 2p.  Classic Dad.  April joined Dad and me for the loading and we worked to get everything packed up.

I remember several feelings that day: a feeling of urgency to get everything from my dorm room into my tiny Toyota Corolla and my Dad’s tiny GTO before the 2p deadline; a feeling of being soaked because it had been raining on and off all that day; and an ache in my stomach because I would be heading east to St. Louis and April would be heading west to Goodland.

We knew this day was coming and we were mentally prepared for it.  As my father said, “my mind had failed to warn me what my heart was programmed to do.”  I was feeling the inevitable absence of someone I had spent nearly every waking moment with for three and a half months and it was manifesting itself as a pain in my stomach as I crammed each box, lamp, pillow, and suitcase into my car.

Dad was feeling something completely different.  No one I know quite freaks out like my father when he needs to leave on time.  My childhood was full of pearls of punctual wisdom like “being there on time is late, being there five minutes early is on time,” and “if you’re not in the car in five minutes I’m leaving you to walk,” and my favorite “let’s went,” meaning “we should have already left so I’m going to refer to our leaving as having already happened.”  Two o’clock was quickly approaching and Dad’s stern glances and repeated reminders to hurry up were starting to fall on deaf ears.  Especially since I knew that two o’clock was coming up quick and I still had to get my room inspected by our floor’s resident assistant.

Two o’clock did come and after some earnest appeals and repeated begging, I was finally able to get our RA to my room and get everything checked out around 2:15p.  I went back down to the lobby were Dad and April were waiting for me.  April was wet from the rain and looked very sweet.  Dad was mentally tapping his foot and giving me a “let’s went” look.  I turned to April, gave her a hug, told her I loved her and cried like an idiot.  I said that I would write and she reminded me that we promised trips over the summer.  We kissed and I felt her tears on my cheeks.  We pulled apart and I looked over at Dad and said “I’m ready to go.”

I’m not sure what Dad saw in those moments of April and my final embrace but he gave me a slight grin and said “Don’t worry about it.  Take your time.”  Dad liked to be on time, but he understood the heart and mine was hurting.  He did the best thing possible and gave me time to say a proper goodbye.

I gave April another long hug, told her I loved her and turned to go.

It was a long ride home.

—

We communicated that summer in any way possible.  I would write, she would call (after 10p to keep the charges down), I would send voice mail on cassette tapes and she would do the same.

I missed her terribly and it was tough until Gary and I got the wild idea to drive out to Goodland to see her.

[to be continued]

It is amazing how quickly a drive can be when one is part of a we.  The miles flew by and we spent the time talking about anything and everything.  I told her about my brother and how his life had presented some challenges and that he has taken a great move in the right direction by graduating from this school.  She told me about her grandparents and how they lived in a small town in Kansas called Kanarado…and yes, it is right on the Kansas-Colorado border.  I spoke about my mom’s inability to stay with a single career for more than three years and she told me about her mom’s inability to separate herself from puppets.  It was a going to be a long ride and we were loving it.

We passed back through the state making our way across the flat plains to the rolling hills and eventually hit Kansas City where I turned north on I-35 and silently told Harry thanks.

The drive from Kansas City to Minnesota is an easy one.  It is divided nicely by achievable goals like two hours to the Missouri Iowa border, one and a half hours to Des Moines, two hours to the Iowa Minnesota border and one and a half hours to the Minneapolis-St. Paul metropolitan area.  It’s a nice drive and spending time talking with April made it even nicer.

But I was getting more anxious as we got closer to our destination.  Not only was April getting ready to meet my family, but she was getting ready to meet my whole family, my Dad, my Mom, my Brother, and my Sister all in the same room.  My parents had had a rough divorce when I was younger and a rocky relationship during my childhood.  My older brother and older sister, although willing to admit that they loved each other, had a relationship that only two siblings aged 15 months apart can have: nice one minute, clawing each other’s eyes out the next.  I wasn’t sure what to expect from any of them and I was pulling April right into the heart of the situation.

I was also anxious because I didn’t know where I was going.  That’s right.  Mister “trip planner” did not get his mom’s home address before leaving and I didn’t know her phone number.  I’m not sure what I was thinking when I set out on this trip but it wasn’t anywhere near rational.  My plan was to get into town, look up her phone number in a phone book (gads, just writing that gave me serious pause), tell her where I was and have her give me directions into the large twin city metro area and right to her front door step.

There were two problems with this plan…that is two additional problems on top of the three hundred and twenty that I just mentioned: 1) it would be about 1 am when we were to arrive; and 2) it was snowing.  The kind of snow that makes one hunch their shoulders and put one’s face about six inches from the windshield in order to take advantage of the shrinking, non-frosted section of glass.  We had been driving in that snow from Des Moines and instead of taking just over two hours to make it to the Iowa-Minnesota border, it had taken a little more than three.  At our current rate of travel, we would probably be arriving around 3 am and I was seriously regretting my lack of planning so I just stared out of the window at the white, frosted landscape.

There wasn’t a lot out there to watch: the snow covered highway fence with large flat fields of white behind, the occasional semi truck’s head lights in the opposite lane, and two cars that had been gaining on us for the better part of twenty minutes.  They eventually pulled behind and April, taking her turn behind the wheel and being a smart driver, had stayed in the left hand lane were the snow had been worn away by the cars ahead.  The two cars behind us decided to throw caution to the wind and pass in the more snow packed right hand lane.  As they passed I looked at the drivers.  The first was a middle aged man with a heavy beard in a silver VW GTI hatchback.  The second was a twenty something girl, with red hair in a silver VW Fox sedan.  They got about twenty feet in front of us when I sat bolt upright and said “APRIL!”

“WHAT?!”

“That’s my Dad in the front car, and that’s my sister in the Volkswagon!”

“What? Who?”

“My Dad.  And my sister.  Right there.”

“Why are they in different cars?”

“Um…I’ll explain later.  Let’s catch up.”

So we did.  All of us were a little shocked and surprised, but I made my introductions when we stopped at the next gas station.  Dad and Shelley were cordial and gave April a nice welcome.  We talked long enough to figure out that Dad had the same ideas for contacting Mom as I did.  We decided the best course was for us to convoy into the twin cities and give her a call no matter what the time.  We all climbed back into our respective vehicles and set off into the frozen landscape.

It took April about five seconds to get to the real question.

“So why are they in separate cars again?”

“The short answer is that my family likes to make car travel as difficult as possible.”

“We have some time.  What is the long answer.”

The long answer was that as long as I could remember, travel in my family was a complicated series of events and potential difficulties that always ended up with the answer “well, I guess you’ll have to take your car and I’ll have to take mine.”  Most of the time these trips were to church or my grandmother’s house and for some reason, one of the drivers was always forced to run errands either before or after.  It was supremely aggravating.  This particular trip had my sister wanting to stay with my mom for an extended visit while my Dad had to get back to St. Louis after the graduation.  The multi-car treks used to bug the crap wads out of me when I was younger, but now I just let them live, mostly because I’m married and they no longer involve me.

We drove a bit longer and eventually made it into Minneapolis around 2:30a.  After a quick call to information and another to Mom, we got the directions and pulled into her place around 3a.  I introduced April to my brother, Jody, and to Mom.  He gave her a hello and Mom greeted her only the way a southern woman who lives in Minnesota can.  ”Well, I’m soh glad to meet cha.  Ya’ll come on in.”  Round o’s with a southern drawl is quite a combination.

We caught up and laughed a lot and eventually made it to bed.  I was tired, glad to be stationary and loving that my family had finally met the girl of my dreams.

The rest of the visit went off without a hitch.  My Mom and Dad were very civil and Shelley and Jody were on their best behavior.  They all loved April and she, apart from being a little nervous and not quite herself, fit in quite well.  Jody’s graduation ceremony was nice and we were able to view some of his work on display.  All around it was a very nice couple of days but the week had come to an end and April and I needed to get back to school and our busy lives of being absorbed with each other.

We packed the car, said our goodbyes and headed south on I-35.  Once again, thanks Harry.

The trip back to Lawrence was even better than the trip up.  We were relieved to have met the families and survived, mostly.  The snow storm that had plagued us on our trip up were long gone and the sun was out.  And we were really digging each other.

We crossed back over the Minnesota-Iowa border, past Des Moines and found ourselves about thirty minutes from Missouri just after dark.  Our conversation was fun and I was in the middle of a story about why I picked a silver Toyota Corolla instead of another car that I wanted when we heard a loud bang and the wheel on the car started shaking violently.  April threw her hands out to her sides and braced for the explosion, but I recognized the problem right away.  I had simply blown a tire so I continued my story, because who wouldn’t be riveted by why I picked the Corolla.  I slowly pulled the car to the shoulder and turned off the engine.

I have to take a break in the story to explain why I recognized the popped tire right away.  Along with my family’s skill in trip planning and vehicle convoys, we had a talent for catastrophic vehicle break downs.  It didn’t matter what condition a car had when I entered our family, it always contracted some sort of car disease and limped along the entire time we owned them.  We were always changing tires, filling the radiator with water, stopping an oil leak or ditching a car on the side of the road.  It happened so much that I was on a first name basis the the tow truck guy and he had taken to giving us a discount.  I think we were doing wonders for his business.  So when the tire popped, it was just another in a long line of car issues that I was trained to handle.

We got out to fix the tire.  It was cold and dark and the spare, which on a Corolla is little more than the size of a butt cushion, was very low on air.  That tire was my only option so I got busy with the lug wrench and continued with my story while April hung out and watched over my shoulder.

I learned later that this was the exact time that April fell in love with me.  She saw what had just happened and the way I had handled it and did one of those mental “who is this guy” double takes.  To me it was just another day, but to her I was the first boyfriend that she ever had who didn’t want to scream and claw their own eyes out when something went wrong with their car.  And she loved that I had continued and eventually finished the story during the whole thing.

We got the spare and and climbed back into the car a bit frozen. I said “Well, we don’t have a lot of air in that spare and you’re not supposed to drive too fast on them anyway so I’m going to pull off at the next exit and see if we can find a place to get a new tire.”  It sounded like a good plan.  Until I realized that it was late on Sunday, we were in the middle of nowhere and we had very little money.

[to be continued]

1. Gayle Rogers writes: “Do you think Dave Ramsay saved your marriage or hurt it?”  This is an interesting question.  Damn Ramsey is a part of our lives and has totally changed our basic financial structure but I would not say that this system has had any effect on our marriage either way.  We have been together on this thing, the marriage, since the beginning, in both good times and bad, and the only effect it  has had on us is to strengthen our love for each other.
2. Mark writes:  ”if I send you my address could you mail me a pint of water from coal creek ? ? ?”  Yes.  Some people do not believe that Coal Creek is an actual creek, but it does exist and I can prove it in the form of muddy water in a 12 ounce bottle.
3. Kait writes: “So, tell us Barry, would you love another little April or Clay running around the house?”  The short answer is yes, if we could get them at 6 months and April didn’t have to be pregnant.  Then again, I’m not sure that I want to baby proof the house.
4. jenny writes: “Clay- in the “Bust It” dance montage, there is moment (around the 2:00 mark) where April gives you this… look. It is THE look- one of total love.
  so the question is this…
how’d you get so lucky?”  I don’t know.  I noticed that look too and she looks really cute.  I am lucky.
5. Betsy writes: “How do you get your kids to dance in the videos?”  Only 25% of our kids actually participate without a lot of cajoling.  The others usually come around after a few minutes of watching us…that is, the male others.  The girl is hopeless.
6. Kathleen writes: “What qualities will you tell your children to look for in a prospective mate?”  We have two requirements for our kids: 1) they have to be Christian; and 2) they have to be tall.  Now, before I get a lot of comments saying that we are unreasonable, I have to say that we are tall people.  A short person would just feel out of place…and we would make fun of them non-stop with a lot of pointing and laughing.
7. Mother of Pearl writes:  ”I have become convinced that my dishwasher sounds just like the Tardis. I can’t decide if this means I am watching too much Doctor Who or not enough. What do you think?”  You used the word Tardis in a sentence.  You are watching too much Dr. Who.
8. Sunny writes “do you think shoes can be sexy? And if you do, do you think some shoes are too sexy to be worn to church (stilletto heels, for example)?”  I know you’ve already been kicked out of your church but I wanted to make sure you have my response.  The answers are yes and yes.  April wears a pair of black stilletto heals that I picked out for her to church, and I’m surprised I don’t get kicked out when she wears them.
   
9. Julianna writes: “What’ your favorite sport to play, not watch?”  Basketball by a mile.  I started playing it rather late in my childhood at 15 but I got hooked and have been playing it ever since.  I have noticed that I’m no longer the fastest or have the highest vertical so the game has taken on more of an outside shot and using my head rather than the “stuff it down their throat” game I used to play.  But I still love it.
10. Stephanie writes “I was wondering if architects sometimes still draw blueprints by hand, or do you use the computer all the time? Also, did you have to design a building and draw the blueprints by hand when you were in college?”  The term Blueprints is actually a dated term.  It identified the “white lines on a blue background” prints that were popular in the mid 20th century.  But I find that the term is kind of stuck in people’s minds and it is used to describe just about any technical drawing that architects produce.  In college we did everything by hand, today nearly 100% of drawings are computer generated.  Some smaller firms will still use the hand drawn stuff but they are few and far between.  Drawing today is being redefined.  The process I use in my firm is to actually model the building in virtual space and then let drawings reflect that.  It makes for a much better process and communication with the client.  Uh, bored yet?

Finally, many of you are asking about the love story.  I am working on the next installment.  I hope to have it soon and I think you’ll like this next one.  It has a pretty important event in it.  A huge turning point…okay, no more.  I’ll try to have it soon now that the kids basketball seasons are nearing an end.