When Marty and I married in April, he lived in Frankfort, Ky. I moved in with him. We knew in July we would be moving to Northern Kentucky. CHEVRON, for some reason did not want him moving before then. Yet he was working the area already. For none Kentuckians, Northern Kentucky is across the Ohio River from Cincinnati.
I was still teaching outside of Louisville in Oldham County. That was at about an hour's from Frankfort. Marty had over an hour's drive to work. The interesting part of this was Louisville and Frankfort were on Central time, Northern Kentucky was on what we called "fast time" or Eastern time. So Marty was always feeling behind on getting to work.
One morning Marty had an early meeting in Louisville and left before I did. We couldn't ride together because my school was 20 miles from where his meeting was. So about 15 minutes later I am speeding up I 64 when I see a familiar person on the side of the road waving me over. Marty's company car had died. A sign of future trouble with that car. I stopped, he drove me to work, and took my car on into Louisville.
Now you whippersnappers ask, why didn't he call you or a tow truck? Well, children this was 1967 and cell phones weren't invented until the late 80's or early 90's.
When we moved to Northern Kentucky I began to find out how crazy being a CHEVRON wife was going to be. The movers were hours late packing us up and arriving at our new apartment. They also stole all our booze. (We learned quickly to pack it our selves and mark it as kitchen oils.) I am sitting in the floor waiting on them when Marty comes in and tells me he has been asked to take a transfer to Nashville as an auditor and not in sales. He told the powers that be that he could not go tell his new wife we were transferred when the truck had not even shown up to move us in yet. They said think about it. He did, and turned it down. He loved being in sales.