Upon leaving my husbands parents house one Sunday afternoon, we got into the car to head back on our hour long drive back to the college we were attending. Two minutes down the road, he started acting weird. He kept squirming in the car, and putting his hand in his pocket, than taking it out again. I asked him if he was okay, and he replied, “sure.” Finally, ten minutes into our hour long drive home, while going 75 miles an hour down the freeway, he says, “I just can’t wait any longer. It’s burning a hole in my pocket. Will you marry me?” He proceeded to take the ring out of his pants pocket he had been sticking his hand in and out of and awkwardly tried to put the ring on my ring finger while driving. I told him to pull over for a minute. He pulled over to the side of the road, put the ring on, kissed me quickly, than got back on the road and drove the rest of the way home to our dorms. I sat admiring the ring the whole way home, it was his mom’s–who also told me when we called her later that night to tell them the news that if anything should “happen” to us–she would need the ring back. Seven years later I haven’t had to give it back.
- Tracy W., Orem, Utah