Nevada Drives (7.8)

The sun beat upon my little blue Mazda loaded down with clothes, books, a bike, me, and Dad. The drive from Sacramento to Provo mainly consisted of Nevada. My over protective father would not let me make the trip alone. The sun blazed hotter as we crossed the Nevada/California line. The CD player died with a pitiful moan; the radio only found static intermixed with sounds that must have been music but resembled nothing pleasant. The sun reached its highest, hottest point and the A/C joined the CD player the afterlife. We rolled down the windows and the wind blew hot and heavy.
I was eager for the trip to end. Dad didn't say much; he never was a big talker. My whole family's really close, but Mom's the big talker. Maybe it's her Italian blood that causes her tongue to move with such animation and her hands to fly with every word. If it had been Mom and I driving silence would not have entered the car, but it wasn't, and silence was only briefly punctuated with conversation.
Staring at the empty landscape, I noticed little towers scatter here and there along the road. "It was in one of those towers I proposed to your mother," he said. I smiled. I'd heard the story so many times, it was one of Mom's favorites. I had the whole thing memorized, even the parts they disagreed on.
They had been dating for six weeks and I'm not sure why, but they decided to visit Dad's cousin in Utah. They made the same drive we were making, Sacramento to Provo (Maybe it was Ogden, but regardless, it was the same desert). The trip was uneventful, but then something happened in Utah. Dad's cousin took him aside and said something, not sure what exactly, but Dad started acting weird and Mom got mad.
When Mom's mad she doesn't talk--her silence is likely the most frightening thing on Earth. Also, Mom hates driving, but she insisted on driving on the trip home. Silently she clutched the steering wheel, focusing on the road ahead and refusing to glance at Dad. Dad didn't dare speak. It was dark out, possibly as dark as Mom's mood. Then there was a lightening storm with huge bolts illuminating the sky or it was a meteor shower: they always disagree on which.
Mom suddenly pulled off the road, jerking the car and parking at the base of a tower. Mom jumped out. "What are you doing?" he asked. "I'm going to look at the sky," she answered angrily. She climbed the tower and stood with arms stubbornly crossed. It's likely her eyebrows were creased and her eyes dark, I've seen that face before.
Dad approached the base of the ladder or stairs (I don't know which) and asked softly, "Can I come up?" "Sure." Carefully he climbed and softly he stepped nearer. When he dared move no closer, Dad felt to on one knee and said, "I wasn't going to do this now, but will you marry me?"
Her anger vanished instantly. She accepted. They kissed. Mom says there were fireworks; it was like they really kissed for the first time. And now, twenty plus years later, they're still talking about that kiss.
My smile broadened and Dad added, "I was a really good kiss." We kept driving. The Nevada heat and wind continued and the subject changed. We passed more empty towers and I thought how once, one of them was filled with two people completely in love. This is not a fairy tale. Life has been nothing like perfect for them, but they are still in love and in twenty more years they will still be in love.
That my point I guess--love lasts. Love is ineloquent, uneventful, and true. Nations rise and fall, times and people change, but love in simple purity lasts for eternity.