OK, so we didn't exactly elope.
We just got married a whopping 12 weeks (to the day) after our engagement, around 12 hours from home, with 12 people watching.
Circumstances being what they are, we had decided to get married in Canada. No, I don't live anywhere near Canada. No, we didn't go to Niagara Falls. It was just a little family gathering in an uncle's back yard.
But when you're planning a drive of several hours -- you make it fun.
It worked like this: He drove through the night to reach my house, where he parked and we got into my convertible to embark on the journey. I drove most of the way to Canada so he could nap -- we stopped at a Checkers fast-food restaurant for lunch on the way. It's one of my favorite chains, though I know it as Rally's.
He'd never heard of the place, so I introduced him to Rally Fries. Mmmmmmrallyfries.
Of course, when you're in Canada, you get Tim Horton's. We stopped at least twice at Timmy's (as the natives say), once so I could have some keep-me-alert juice and once so I could meet a relative on our way in.
The night before our wedding, I'd casually mentioned at supper that my car was due for a cleanup so it would look good in the wedding photos. That turned out to be an invitation to the guys to help me wash the car instead of getting roped into dish duty. I swear, after we were finished, I could have used any part as a makeup mirror.
We'd managed to pack everything we needed ... his suit, my dress, my makeup and hair supplies (getting married requires 10 times more than the usual, apparently), our honeymooning luggage ... into the tiny 5.3-cubic-foot trunk of my third-generation Miata. Not only that, we managed to pack MORE items in when we left his grandmother's house, headed to the cabin for our abbreviated honeymoon. Good thing, too -- food is kind of important when you're in the middle of Nowheresville, Emptyland, Canada, and a 2-hour drive from the nearest Walmart.
My poor boy felt terrible late one morning when we got in the car ... and it wouldn't start. The lights had been left on. Classic blunder, eh? Fortunately, this story ends painlessly: We borrowed a boat battery from the neighboring cabin's owner and used that and the jumper cables to give my car's battery some juice. We were set back by only 10-15 minutes after the whole ordeal.
Of course, you're all thinking: Who knew a BOAT battery would work for a CAR?
I'd ended up with a slightly red nose from our journey up, so we put the top up for a good portion of our journey back even though (or rather, because) it was bright and sunny out. He drove, mostly -- because he knows I don't care for driving too much, not because he was super confident driving stick shift. He keeps telling the story of how he hadn't driven stick since he was 17 and had halfway learned on an old clunky pickup truck. I like to tell the story of how we only stalled once on the trip back.