Doug and Donna met their sophomore year at Jim Bowie High School (“Home of the Fightin’ Knives”) and dated all through the rest of high school.

After about the third date there was no question they’d get married. But Fort Stockton is a conservative town, one that puts a high value on doing the right thing. Donna’s dad sat down with the young couple and had a heart to heart with both of them right there in the faux wood-paneled study of the family’s three bedroom ranch home over on San Jacinto Street.

“Look. Your mother and I were young once,” her dad started. “We know what the temptations are that you two are facing. Your mother, in particular, became aware of her sexuality at a very early age. In fact, before she and I met she. . .”

“Dad!” Donna shrieked. “Stop!”

“Sure, sure. No need to get into those details and air that dirty laundry,” he dad said, looking over at Doug and giving him a wink. “And that was some damn dirty laundry. God the stories I heard about that woman!”

“DAD!” Donna screamed.

“Sorry. Where was I? Oh, yeah, our expectations are that the two of you wait till marriage before discovering the carnal pleasures of the flesh, just like your dad did..”

Doug and Donna looked at each other, then down at their platform shoes making circles in the earth-toned sculptured shag carpet, embarrassed to even be having the conversation. The whole thing was more awkward than the sex education class Coach Carlson taught with the aid of a record and a filmstrip that advanced manually every time the record beeped.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he went on, “wait until you’re married before knowing each other in the biblical sense and I’ll buy you a new Mercury Bobcat for a wedding gift.”

Well that certainly sweetened the pot. Neither of them had ever had a new car before; probably never would without such an incentive. And it’s not like they were putting passion off for a Pinto. This was a Bobcat. They committed to fight the good fight. Told her dad he had a deal. Donna’s dad went to bed thinking he’d probably be up for Father of the Year, if Fort Stockton offered such a thing. He could brag about his daughter’s virtue down at the country club. Maybe even rub it in a little bit with ol’ Tig Tomlinson, whose daughter was said to have laid on her back looking at more ceilings than Michelangelo.

Meanwhile, Doug and Donna struggled with their half of the bargain. Many a time, over in the corner of the cafetorium over at Jim Bowie High, Donna would be wearing tight jeans and a tube top and it was all Doug could do to not scoop her up and take her to the janitor’s closet for a quick session of bumping uglies before they had to go to British Literature, a known boner-killer. Donna developed a better understanding of her mother’s moods as time wen’t on. Doug would tell his friends in the locker room after football practice that they were waiting till they got married, but he just couldn’t wait til he was able to get in that sweet little Bobcat for the very first time. They all nodded, knowing exactly what he meant.

A couple months before the wedding, Donna’s dad went down to Longbranch Lincoln-Mercury and ordered the Bobcat. He got the spiciest colors available for the obvious reasons. Added every option offered. He knew the car was going to be worth the wait.

It came in a week before the wedding and he told Doug and Donna they could go pick it up.

Two days later they were in Brother Bob’s office at Second Baptist Church for their final pre-marital counseling session. “I just need to confirm that you have avoided any conjugal relations prior to the ceremony.” he said, wrapping things up.

They both looked sheepish. “Afraid not.” admitted Doug.

“Well then. I’m not going to be able to perform the service in the Second Baptist sanctuary.” Brother Bob proclaimed, not even attempting to stifle the judgmental tone in his voice.

“I’m not surprised.” replied Donna. “We’re not allowed back in the Lincoln-Mercury showroom, either.”